


The Scoundrel (Part 1)

by gubernaculum



Series: The Namesakes [11]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 70,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubernaculum/pseuds/gubernaculum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old face appears at Torchwood as an unwelcome visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I'm only borrowing everything purely for non-profit and completely recreational purposes. The characters of Miranda Ryan, Joseph Fischer, Henry Fitzroy, Tom Blount, Kiernan Davies, Shawn Graham and Ashley Greenfield are my own. I have cast them as Zhang Ziyi, Jesse Spencer, Alex Pettyfer, Paul Blackthorne, Eddie Redmayne, Will Smith and Julia Stiles respectively. This fic is unbeta'd and therefore probably full of grammatical and typographical errors. Writing is purely a hobby for me. I am an American and have attempted to do my own Britpicking so I apologize for any errors there as well. I am just borrowing Highlander concepts and names so it won't line up well with that show's canon. This is also AU for Torchwood as I like to pretend CoE and Miracle Day never happened.

Captain John Hart felt the familiar lurch in his stomach as he landed out of the vortex and into the middle of the Torchwood Hub. _Shit! Got the coordinates wrong!_ He thought with panic as he saw the lights were on and that he wasn't in the morgue. He'd wanted to kill two birds with one stone now he was in trouble… 

"John!" His head whipped around at the name. A woman was running towards him. She was Asian but not the same woman he'd met the first time he came here.He caught sight of Jack standing in her path, looking at him with astonishment. His former partner's eyes widened and he reached out, grabbing her as she passed him. 

"NO! DON'T!" Jack shouted at her. 

Hart took a few steps back, confused, wondering if Jack was protecting him from some sort of attack. Why he'd do that was completely beyond Hart as was why this woman was so desperate to reach him. Jack had to lift her off the ground gain a measure of control over her. 

He continued to shout, "STOP! You can't! Look at him! He doesn't know who you are. It's not our version of him!" 

"Let me go! Now, Jack!" she snarled. 

 _What passion…_ It made Hart look at her more seriously. The emotion behind that passion wasn't vengeance, anger or hatred. It was the opposite. Hart had only ever known love to fuel that level of determination. It wasn't all that he heard in her plea. Her voice dripped with a venom and a bite that interested him. The complexity wasn't the only thing that got his attention. Even though her face was twisted with raw emotion, she was quite pretty in an old fashioned human sort of way.  

She renewed her struggles and Jack was having trouble holding onto her. He put her back on the ground, backhanding her across the mouth. The solid crack got her attention. 

"Look at him!" he cried, shaking her. 

She'd finally stopped struggling and turned with hesitation and dread. 

No one had ever looked at him like that. There wasn't just love and lust. There was a purity to it. Flowing from the ocean of love was a river filled with loyalty and devotion. He never believed anyone would… could look at him that way. What astounded him the most was that her eyes hoped and begged for that look to be returned. 

The heartbreak spread across her face, welling up tears in her eyes. "No…" 

Jack drew her close as the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Ianto? Take her to my office." 

The young man walked forward and opened his mouth as if to say something to him but closed it again. Hart saw none of the hatred and anger he'd seen the last time they'd met. The Welshman quietly took the woman by the arm. 

"C'mon, Mandy…" he said softly. 

Ianto started to lead her away but she turned and opened her mouth. With cat-like reflexes, the Welshman covered her mouth with his hand. With his other arm, he dragged her away. The tears continued, running down her cheeks and over Ianto's hand. Hart expected her to continue her struggle but halfway to Jack's office, she deflated, sorrow overwhelming her. Ianto dragged her into Jack's office, kicking the door shut with his foot.  

 _Such grief… over me?!_  

Jack rounded on him, pointing a finger in his face. "You need to leave. Now!" 

What Hart had just witnessed left him slightly stunned. He forgot everything the Time Agency and temporal mechanics had taught him and asked, "Who is she?" 

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You know I can't tell you that. Leave. Now." 

He had to know. He reached out and grabbed Jack's arm, dragging the other man towards him. 

"Jaxon, who is she?" he demanded, dropping his voice to a whisper. 

For a full minute, Jack didn’t say anything. He just stood there with his chin tucked into his chest. Looking as if he was going to regret what he was about to do, he shook his head. 

“A few months ago. 5 November, 2014.” Jack grabbed his wrist, tapping those time coordinates into his vortex manipulator and then ordered, "Now, go."


	2. Chapter 2

It was very late. Torchwood’s medic, Miranda Ryan, had just finished her last xenopsy. A Weevil had surfaced behaving erratically during the day. Usually, Torchwood captured any Weevils that surface and, after a short time-out in their cells, released them back into the sewers but they captured any daytime wanderer and humanely euthanised them. They'd learned the hard way how dangerous such Weevils became. The xenopsy was standard, to learn more about the behaviour. After placing the body in the refrigeration unit with an orange tag telling Ianto it was ready for disposal, Miranda returned to the autopsy bay. She'd just placed the instruments to soak and tossed her gloves into the bin when she heard a small noise. She closed her eyes, straining her ears over the normal sounds of the Hub. There it was again. A small click… shuffling feet… 

 _Of course, it's coming from the morgue,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. She opened the bottom drawer in the medical cabinet to retrieve her gun. She flicked the safety off and pulled on the slide quietly. She glanced over at her sword resting on the instrument tray and decided against it. The only presence she felt was Ianto, sleeping in the bunker below Jack's office. The chances of another immortal of the Game entering the Hub were slim to none. She toed off her shoes and padded down the stairs on bare feet to the Hub's morgue.

When she rounded the corner, she saw a man in a red jacket leaning over a cryodrawer. He was completely unaware of her. She could just shoot him. It would be an expedient solution. But he had the look of someone who knew precisely what he was looking for and precisely where to find it. It would be better to question such an individual. She pulled back the hammer on her gun, not bothering to conceal the noise. The distinctive sound echoed in the tiled room and had its intended effect, the man straightened up to face her. 

Ruggedly handsome was her first impression from the high cheekbones and chiseled features. There was a slight curl to his brown hair. The gun in her hands didn't seem to concern him at all. In fact, his blue eyes danced with mischief, as if he was privy to some secret she wasn’t. She lowered the gun a little, trying to appraise him. When he reached for the waistband of his jeans, it brought her back to reality and she raised the gun again. 

"Don't. Fucking. Move," she said each word like a jab. "Keep your hands where I can see them. Step away from that cryodrawer, slowly."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards. The mischief deepened and the grin turned licentious. It was almost as if he recognised her. He was wearing a stained white t-shirt underneath a red Napoleonic jacket. _That isn't a reproduction._ Miranda's eyes flicked to the sword at his hip. _A kitana… also not a reproduction_. She hadn't felt a presence other than Ianto's but one immortal could mask the presence of another. It was then that she noticed the leather wrist strap. _Time agent!_ She had to warn Jack. 

"Well, hello, hello," he said, sweetly. 

She moved closer, keeping her gun pointed at him and flicked her eyes to the drawer's label. _Gray. He's after Gray._ She noted the blue indicator light was still on. The drawer's reversal sequence hadn't been initiated. Gray was still in proper cryostasis. "I said step away. Hands up! Now!"

Hart obeyed, moving a few steps away from the drawer. He raised his hands slightly. "Easy there, Dollface. You don't understand what's going on here. I'm an old friend of your Captain's." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. _So this is the old Time Agency partner… Impeccable taste as always, Jack…_ Miranda reached back into her memory for the name but Jack had never told her. She did know the current alias. "I'm well aware of what's going on here, Captain Hart. And don't call me Dollface."

If he was surprised she knew his name, he didn't show it. He gestured down at Gray's drawer and said, "I'm just cleaning up after your Captain." 

She cast a quick glance up at the CCTV camera. Its light was off. _Of course, Hart's disabled it_. Miranda knew all about Jack's brother and his obsessive search. She knew all about Gray's revenge and Hart's involvement in the chain of events that had brought her back to Torchwood. She'd heard their stories. She’d dried Gwen, Ianto and Jack’s tears. She'd read the reports. She'd watched the security footage. It was clear what had to be done. It was also clear that Jack would never do it. So, Miranda had done it herself. She'd sabotaged Gray's drawer a day of her return. 

She made sure to add a slight chill to her tone and hollowed her voice so Hart didn't mishear her. She jerked her chin towards the drawer and said, "That? Has already been taken care of." 

Curiosity lit in his eyes and he asked, "Who are you?"

"Doctor Miranda Ryan, the medic." 

"Tad fuzzy on the whole 'do no harm' bit, eh?” he sneered. He glanced at the drawer. "How?"

Miranda said, icily, "Not your concern, Captain. Upstairs please. Slowly." 

Now that she understood Hart's motives for entering the Hub, Miranda considered letting him go but only for a moment. She couldn't let him just waltz out of here. Not only would Jack would be furious if he found out but Hart was simply too dangerous. When he passed her, she pointed the gun at his back, following a short distance behind him. There was a tantalizing scent in the air - sandalwood, leather and cinnamon. 

She pressed the comm in her ear, switching it to the channel for Jack's wrist strap. It would cause the strap to beep and hopefully wake either man asleep in the bunker. Ianto was a notoriously light sleeper. When they reached the autopsy bay, Miranda tapped the table and then moved her sword a respectable distance away. "Face me and put your hands on the table where I can see them please, Captain."

While he obeyed her command, she debated whether or not to frisk him for weapons but decided against it. Her comm unit beeped in her ear. Jack's voice came across sleepily. "Will? What's up?" 

"Captain John Hart is here. I have him in the autopsy bay." 

"I'll be right up." He sounded fully awake now. 

The split second of distraction for her response was all it took. Hart propelled himself away from the autopsy table with his hands. He twisted around and grabbed for the gun. He seized her wrist and pinned her to the wall. She hadn't expected him to be able to move so fast. He caught her by surprise but she kept a firm hold on the gun. He banged her wrist against the wall several times in an unsuccessful attempt to disarm her. He switched tactics, keeping her pinned instead. Pressed so firmly into her, Miranda discovered the source of the intoxicating combination of sandalwood, leather and cinnamon. It was Hart. The smell sent blood rushing to her groin and made her dizzy. _Fifty fucking first century pheromones_ … she cursed to herself. 

Miranda recovered quickly from the off balance feeling Hart’s scent had caused. She was trying to regain her advantage, something which would have been simple for her against the average human being or even a reasonably skilled immortal of the Game but with Hart, Miranda was unable to turn the tables on his grip. An advanced immortal of the Game like Miranda was fast and strong but not inhumanly so. She had all the strength, speed and agility of a top competing Olympic athlete… of the twenty first century. Miranda had been using Jack as a benchmark for the people of his time and she had no trouble defeating the immortal man. The assumption was proving to be an error. Hart was significantly stronger than her. 

He shifted his grip on her wrist. His thumb moved up closer to her hand as the rest of his fingers shifted. Miranda knew enough about anatomy and hand to hand combat to know what was about to happen. Hart squeezed just so and the bone shifted, pressing into the nerve running through her arm. The pain was excruciating. She didn’t cry out but her eyes watered. She held firm on the gun. 

With no outward sign of pain, the curiosity in him deepened. He ceased his attempts to gain control of the weapon and stared at her. Her eyes burned at him with a fire that looked as ancient as it was hot. He would never gain control of the gun and she would never regain control of the situation. Their gazes locked and a silent battle of wills began. The sound of Jack cocking his Webley brought them both back to reality. 

"Let her go, John. Now!" he ordered. 

Hart lowered his voice so that only Miranda could hear him. 

“What do you say, Dollface? Care to dance?” He squeezed the nerve in her wrist again. 

The only sign of pain she showed was the smallest furrow to her brow. The honey coloured eyes blackened and crisped with rage. Hart had never encountered anyone like her. _Stoic fire…_

"I said, let her go," Jack repeated.

Miranda slacked in Hart’s grip and he pulled back, thinking she had surrendered. She jerked her foot to the side, hard, unbalancing him. She yanked her arm downwards, finally turning the tables on his grip and flipping him. He face planted on the autopsy bay floor with Miranda seated on his thighs, his arm twisted around his back. “Touch me without my permission again and I will remove your liver with my bare hands." 

To her annoyance, Hart began chuckling. "Permission isn't always verbal, Dollface."

"Don’t…” she said simply, twisting his arm harder and eliciting a shout from him. She thought about breaking his wrist but decided against it. “…call me that.” 

"I like her, Jack," Hart said, his face pressed into the tiles slightly muffling his voice.

"What do you want?" Jack demanded.

"What? A bloke can't just stop in?" 

"He asked you a question," Ianto snapped.

"Eye Candy!" Hart exclaimed.

Miranda was sorry that Hart's face was in the floor. He missed Ianto's spectacular eye roll.

"Answer him," she spat, yanking on his arm causing him to shout again.

"I came to say goodbye. I'm getting off this boring little rock." 

"Let him up, Will," Jack said. 

Unwilling to let this man think she was an easy target, she didn't move, keeping Hart pinned to the floor. She tugged a little on his arm for a third time. She slid her hand up his back, placing her fingers in just the right places along his neck. She felt the muscles tense as Hart recognised the grip… the grip that could snap his neck of she applied the right amount of pressure. 

Jack said sternly, "Will, that's enough." 

With a growl, she let go of Hart's arm and got to her feet. 

"There, you've said goodbye. Now leave," Jack said as he turned to walk away. 

"What? You used to be all about the long goodbye. I was thinking the three of us… well the four of us now…" he said as he got up off the floor and followed Jack out into the main Hub. "Oh, a Rickettsian tissue regenerator." 

Ianto and Jack both stopped walking. Fish's worktable was littered with unidentifiable technology. The rift had been quiet lately and the technician had been working through the tech backlog. 

"Wait, you know what that is?" Jack asked.

Hart nodded. "Rickettsian tissue regenerator, sixty sixth century technology. Watch…" He pulled a small blade from his belt, rolled up his sleeve and put a long, deep cut into his arm entire forearm, wincing. He picked up the alien device and aimed it at the fresh cut. "See you… oh… it's broken." 

All three of them rolled their eyes at him. Jack leaned over, examining the cut closely. “Nice. That needs stitches." 

"Just give me a minute…" While bleeding onto the Hub floor and the leg of his trousers, Hart began fiddling with the base of the device.

"Sometimes if they're dropped…" He picked at the bottom and it popped off. He reached two of his fingers into the device before any of them could stop him. Suddenly, it whirred and beeped and the light on the end came on. 

"Ah-ha!" he said triumphantly, snapping the bottom back on. He pointed the regenerator at the cut on his arm. He slid his finger along a mark on the edge. Miranda watched in amazement as the cut started to seal itself, leaving a pink scar in its wake. She made a mental note to have Fish put this device on his list of priorities. 

"See? Good as new… Oh… huh…" The regenerator stopped, leaving the wound half open. Frowning, he started fiddling with the device again. The movement caused the freshly healed end of the wound to split, bleeding again.

“John, stop. Let Will stitch that," Jack said, nodding towards the autopsy bay. 

Miranda resisted the urge to crush Jack’s windpipe. “There’s a perfectly acceptable A&E-“ 

"Hang on, just give me a minute…" He held up his hand and then continued to pick at the end of the device, trying to pop the bottom off again. 

Jack gave Miranda a stern look. He took on a tone of authority and ordered, “It will only take a few minutes, Will.” 

He turned and walked away with Ianto behind him. "I'll be in my office. Send him in after you're done."

Miranda took the device from his hands. Hart gave her a pout, like a child who’d lost a favourite toy. She seized Hart under his arm and dragged him into the autopsy bay. She shoved him at the table and started gathering her supplies. 

“Sit down,” she snapped. When she turned back to Hart, he was sitting on the autopsy table, shirtless and smirking. 

"Like what you see?" he asked, leering. 

Rolling her eyes, she poured antiseptic over the cut causing Hart to hiss. Without another word, she pushed the syringe into the bottle of anaesthetic. 

"Don't bother," he said, dismissively. 

She rolled her eyes again. She pulled his arm towards her and injected the medication around the wound. Nastily, she said, “Trust me, I’d rather not.” 

Without waiting for the medication to take effect, she put on a pair of gloves. She opened the packet of suture and began to stitch. "You didn't have to make such a large cut for a simple demonstration."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't think I'd have it long, did I?" 

He could feel every stitch. He couldn’t believe that he’d bothered to come back here. There was no way this woman would ever care about him. She despised him! In fact, he was finding her quite unnerving too as each push of the needle pinched. The silence between them was intensely awkward. It might have something to do with Hart nearly breaking her wrist. Or it might have something to do with Miranda threatening his life. Either way, you could have curdled milk with the mood in the room. She was interesting, bordering on intriguing. He liked her pluck but she was impossible and fucking maddening. 

Miranda put the last stitch into his arm and without warning, she backed away and buried a needle in his thigh, depressing the plunger. Hart yelled as the contents of the syringe burned and stung.  

"YEOW!" he shouted, rubbing the spot furiously. Hart wanted to throttle that smug look off her face.  

There was an impatient throat clear from the stairs and Ianto said, "Jack's in his office." 

Hart winked at Miranda and said, "Captain Jack a-calls…." then bounded up the stairs and out of sight. 

Ianto, not bothering to keep his voice down, shouted, “You need to talk to Jack, Mandy! Hart’s dangerous! He poisoned Gwen! He pushed Jack off a building! He blew up half of Cardiff! Tosh and Owen are dead because of him!" 

"I've read the reports,” she said, calmly. Though Ianto was prone to emotionalism when it came to his husband, she had to agree with him. She’d recognised the look on Jack’s face when that piece of tech had captured Hart’s interest. He’d had the same exact look when he’d offered a job to Fish. Adding another technician to their team had been a top priority for her and Jack since Fish had reduced his field time. 

Ianto continued, “I get that we need a tech for the alien artefacts and Fish is overwhelmed but… him?!” 

Before Miranda could answer, Jack’s voice bellowed, “Ianto! IANTO!” The immortal man appeared behind his husband. “John's in my office. Show him down to one of the guest rooms." 

Miranda saw the slight slump to Ianto's shoulders at the request. The Welshman’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She wondered if Jack would be sleeping on her sofa tonight. _Woefully obtuse_ … "I've got it Jack." 

Jack held up his hand and started counting off points on his fingers. "Don't believe anything he says. Always keep him in front of you and under no circumstances let him kiss you."

At that moment, Hart came around the corner. "Has he got to the no kissing rule yet?" 

Miranda gave Ianto a little pat on the shoulder as she passed him. She pointed around towards the north staircase. "Keep in front, that way, the north stairs." 

"Ooo, bossy, I like that. Whatever you say, Dollface."

"Don't call me Dollface." 

Miranda led Hart down the stairs. At the end of the corridor she turned right, as if heading to her own rooms but she walked past them to the stairway at the end of the hall. They descended down a level towards what the team affectionately called 'the staterooms.' Occasionally, Torchwood played host and some of the old storage rooms had been converted into half a dozen spartan guest quarters. More often, the team used the rooms for a quick kip. Ianto kept them dusted and the sheets fresh, changing them monthly. She picked the one closest to the stairway. She ushered him in. 

They were all the same, each resembling a typical hotel room. There was a small double bed in the middle of the room. Off to one side was a small table with a single wooden chair that could serve as an eating area or desk. The other side had a small round side table and upholstered chair for a small reading area. There was a simple wardrobe and dresser. Both were empty. A small bookcase had some very dated, yellowing novels various Torchwood operatives had added over the decades. 

She opened the door and then shoved Hart inside. “Sleep well, Captain.” 

“I’d sleep better with some company, Dollface,” he said, giving her a leer. She might be unnerving but he could… thrust… that aside for a little while. 

 _The utter gall…_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. She muttered under her breath in an ancient language. 

“Oooh,” he said, smirking. “Rather spread your thighs for gravedigger, eh?” 

Without giving Hart the satisfaction of an answer, Miranda turned and walked away. She and Jack were having a serious chat tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

At an obscenely early hour, Ianto and Miranda were in the gym sparring. Miranda had ceased calling it training. To this day, she had no idea what had happened. Scarcely a few months after returning from his honeymoon, Ianto's sword skills had improved a thousand fold almost overnight, his style exuding that of the Highlander. Ianto had refused to talk about it, becoming curt and short tempered whenever she’d brought it up. Eventually, Jack had asked her to stop. So, she'd accepted the mystery for what it was and never spoke of it again. 

Even with his new miraculous skills, Ianto couldn’t defeat Miranda but he could hold his own against her for a good length of time. This morning was a different story. Ianto was spending most of this sparring session flat on his back. It wasn't entirely Ianto's fault. Yes, the young immortal was angry, frustrated and tired but Miranda was putting more force and agility behind her blows. Since Ianto's formal training was over, she usually fought with enough skill to keep him sharp and to push his boundaries a bit. Today, she wasn’t holding back. In fact, she should be praising him for holding his ground so well. 

Hart had them both on edge and they were taking it out on each other with Miranda being more successful. She'd been up half the night, tossing and turning, unable to get Hart out of her mind. She was trying to work out exactly how to get rid of him or figure out what she could possibly say to Jack to get him to see reason. They shouldn’t trust Hart and someone they didn’t trust had no place within the team. It wasn’t just what she knew about his previous encounters with Torchwood. She also knew a great deal about Hart from Jack and little of it was good. In fact, now that she'd met the man she wondered what Jack had ever seen in him. Then again, their relationship was also from a time when Jack was a different man himself. 

As if his ears had been burning, Jack walked through the gym door just as Miranda sent Ianto sprawling to the mats again. She waited until Ianto had caught his breath a little before tapping his leg with her sword. He got to his feet with a grunt and a wince. 

Jack leaned against the far wall. If Ianto were still in training, Miranda wouldn’t have permitted Jack to observe. Because of Ianto’s improved skill and single quickening, Miranda considered Ianto’s training over even though she’d scarcely trained the Welshman a year. She normally trained her students for nearly a decade, sometimes more. She allowed Jack to watch on occasion to highlight the fact that Ianto’s immortality was different than his. Even though she allowed it, she didn’t like it. These sparring sessions never went as smoothly with Jack watching. Miranda suspected the Welshman was unknowingly trying to show off for his lover.

"Again, Ifan," she said. 

He gave a wordless nod and moved to stand opposite her. They stood facing each other but this time Miranda waited for Ianto to attack. He swung the sword behind him to gain momentum. _Showy…_ This time fatigue was clear in the two handed swing. She dodged him easily. The next swing from him came laterally but, again, he used both hands. _We're done here._ He tried again, another two-handed swing from the other direction. She parried the blow easily then leaned in towards the younger immortal, landing a firm right cross to his jaw, sending him sprawling. Ianto was making old errors she hadn't seen him make in weeks; certainly not since his mysterious leap frog in skill.

With Ianto’s training so incomplete and with so much for him still to learn, Miranda had feared for his life. For a few weeks, Duncan MacLeod had remained in Cardiff to supplement the Welshman’s training. Even though Ianto was a fledgling immortal, he’d succeeded in taking the head of Carl Brogen through underhanded means. Immortals in training were generally given a grace period to learn in relative safety but the immortal community commonly accepted the taking of a head as a sign training was complete. With the death of Carl Brogen, Ianto’s head was now fair game. The title of student no longer protected him. When Ianto’s skills had improved, it was mysterious, yes, but Miranda had been relieved and Duncan had returned to Paris. Ianto had made a gigantic leap forward. Miranda hated to see this gigantic slide backwards. The carelessness irritated her further.  

"You have two hands, you need only swing with one!" she barked. 

"It's heavy," he said between gasps. 

"Grow stronger!” she barked. 

Jack's voice drifted from the doorway, "Ease up on him, Will."

Miranda resisted the urge to crush his windpipe… again. "Ifan, go get cleaned up. Jack, a private word?"

Once Ianto had collected his things and limped towards the locker room, she turned to Jack, her eyes flashing with anger. Ianto’s training may be complete but he was still learning the culture of the Game. Ianto would forever be known as her student. Miranda was still solidifying the sacred bond between student and teacher. It was a relationship built over time that created lasting respect and profound kinship. She couldn't let Jack undermine her authority with Ianto. Jack was right in his own way. Ianto was working hard but she still had to stand her ground. This was her territory, not his. She pushed the point of her sword against Jack's chest for emphasis. 

"I may not have said so before but I'm saying it now. Upstairs you're the captain, but in here with Ianto, _my word is law_.” 

Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. He seemed to understand he shouldn't exercise the more flippant aspects of his personality. When Miranda didn't say anything further, he bristled, puffed out his chin and came to his husband’s defence. "He's working hard." 

She didn't lower her weapon. There were only two likely effects Hart’s appearance would’ve on Jack and Ianto’s relationship. Either way, it would be explosive. This morning she’d learned precisely what sort of explosive. She’d smelled the sex and Jack on Ianto the minute he'd walked through the gym door. Ianto had spent the night marking his territory. She wasn’t sure which outcome she would’ve preferred. 

"He needs to concentrate. He can't do that if he's up all night buggering you,” she snapped. “As of now, you're banned from these sparring sessions. If you ever undermined my authority in front of Ifan again, I will open your belly and use your entrails as Christmas decorations." 

"Don't you think you're over-"

"No, Jack, I don't think I'm over reacting!” She backed away a little, lowering her sword. She didn’t want to bring up his interference in Carl Brogen’s death. She didn’t want to bring up how Ianto had falsely earned a reputation for himself nor how she’d already intercepted a few challenges and expected more. "The world is shrinking. The Game is more dangerous than ever. I'm trying to keep him alive."

She didn't give Jack a chance to answer, she walked out of the gym towards the locker room. She needed to clear her head. She needed to have a more serious discussion with Jack later and that discussion would be harder if she said something now she’d have to apologise for. After stripping, she found Ianto standing under the hot spray, letting the water ease his aching muscles. The palms of both his hands were planted against the tiled wall, his head bowed. The hot spray was sending the water cascading down his back and across his shoulders. The bruises Miranda had given him were already yellowing and fading. They would be gone by the time he was dressed. He was staring at the ones on his arms. 

It may have been a long time ago but Miranda remembered the fascination she’d had with her healing abilities at first. That fascination didn’t fade for many, many years. It was probably still a miracle to him, watching small nicks and cuts seal themselves and bruises fade before his eyes. Miranda watched as he flexed his hands against the tile, the muscles of his now bulkier forearms shifting under tight skin. His shoulders were broader, his arms and legs thicker. The training regime was driving away his baby fat and replacing it with lean cords of muscle. Miranda allowed herself to admire his body from afar for a few moments. He didn't look up at the sound of her bare feet against tile floor nor the scrape of steel against the tile as she leaned her sword against the wall. She turned on the shower next to him. 

Miranda cleared her throat before she said, "I'm sorry about before. I've been pushing you too hard." 

"I know how serious all this is, Mandy," he said softly. He was still so ashamed about what had happened with Carl Brogen. When Jack had thrown him his sword, he’d acted on instinct alone. He’d wanted to live. He’d done what he’d needed to do to survive. Now, Miranda was bearing the brunt of that. Jack may not be aware that Miranda had intercepted challenges on Ianto’s behalf but, then again, Jack didn’t have a Watcher whispering in his ear. Ianto’s Watcher, Shawn Graham, kept him well appraised of every single challenge Miranda deflected. 

"There was never a doubt," she said, "but you deserve a break. No more training sessions for the next week.” 

He nodded. He’d done everything he could to get ahead of Miranda, to accept the challenges she was intercepting before she had a chance, but her sources of information were too good. Instead, he threw himself into his training, trying to convince her that he stand alone. Though his mind was skilled, his body wasn’t. Ianto had been working hard to bring his body to the point it had been at when the pocket universe had collapsed. It was frustrating for him that many moves and countermoves he’d mastered weren’t possible now. He was pushing his body to its limits and burning himself out. 

Miranda noted that the last time she'd given him a few days off, he'd argued. _He must be exhausted. I should’ve seen it._ She rinsed the last of the soap from her body and shut off the water. 

"And Ifan…" she waited for him to turn to her before continuing. "Good work. I'm very proud of you."

She shook more water out of her hair when she got back to the locker room. She laid her sword on the wooden bench and reached for a towel. 

"Mm, mm, mmm…" came Hart's leer from the doorway. 

Miranda rolled her eyes but made no move to cover herself. It seemed pointless as Hart had already gotten an eyeful. 

“Opps. Sorry, Dollface. Is this the ladies?" he asked, stepping into the room. 

"There is no such distinction at Torchwood, Captain… and stop calling me that," she said, running the towel over her hair. "Was there something you wanted?" 

"Oh, so much…" he let his eyes wander lustfully over her nude body.

"What are you doing down here, Hart?" Ianto asked as he came out of the shower area. He hastily wrapped the towel in his hand around his waist. 

"Eye Candy! Have you been working out?" 

Ianto rolled his eyes. He pointedly glared at the door. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, in fact, I'm looking forward to it.” His lustful attentions were now firmly focused on the young Welshman.

"I'm not staying here for him to leer at me," Ianto muttered under his breath so only she could hear him. He collected his things and left the room, checking Hart with his shoulder as he left, knocking the Captain off balance. 

"Ah, twenty first century modesty… how quaint…" Hart snickered at Ianto's retreating back and then turned his eyes back to Miranda. "You seem to have no such reserve." 

“And, all evidence to the contrary, Captain, you appear to be an adult. I'm quite certain I'm not the first naked woman you've ever seen." She collected her sword and soiled clothes. As she left, she gave Hart the same shoulder check that Ianto did, hers knocking the Captain off balance as well.  "I'll see you up in the autopsy bay in twenty minutes for a complete physical."

She’d go through the motions but it was time for that chat with Jack.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack knew a difficult conversation was to be had between him and his second in command. He decided to start it on his own terms. 

"Will! My office!" he shouted across the Hub floor when he saw Miranda coming up the north stairs. After he'd sat back down at his desk, there was a polite knock. The door opened and Miranda poked her head in.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, not moving into the office. 

The nuances of her hesitance weren’t lost on him. The deference to his authority felt like a small slap in the face after his disrespect of hers. He wondered if it was on purpose. _Probably_ … he thought, rolling his eyes internally. He wondered if these sorts of immature games between them would ever end. _Probably not…_

"Come on in, Will. Have a seat." He waited for her to take the chair opposite his desk. 

Joseph Fischer was an excellent chemist and had exceptional computer skills but he struggled with the alien technology. Jack had asked Hart to examine the other devices on Fish’s work table. Tosh would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices on there in a matter of days. Fish also would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices but in a matter of weeks. Being a time traveller from the future, Hart had identified more than half of them in the span of a few minutes. 

Despite the fact that Hart had attacked his medic, Jack had known the minute he'd seen his former partner that something had changed about the man. When Hart had thrown him off the roof all those years ago, Jack hadn't missed the blown pupils and the slight twitching to his hands and the corners of his mouth. Hart had been loaded on something. Jack hadn't been surprised. Hart had spent most of his time loaded up on one thing or another. Jack knew all about Hart’s background and upbringing and understood where the man’s hedonism was coming from but it was extreme even for their own time. He’d been surprised that Hart had appeared sober during their next encounter, when he and Gray had blown up half the city and Tosh and Owen were taken from them. So lost in his own grief and guilt, Jack certainly hadn't stopped to wonder the impact of the day's events on Hart. When Miranda had caught him in the autopsy bay, Jack was, again, surprised at how lucid the man was. Maybe Captain John Hart had shed some of his vices and grown up a little? 

"John's going to be with us for a one month trial period. Is that going to be a problem?"

If she flew off the handle and yelled or shouted, Jack would just dig in his heels and not budge. At least he’d had the sense to not make it the usual three to six months. If she could convince him properly… “Do you think that wise?” 

“We’ve been talking about adding another team member for years,” he said, not looking up from the papers in front of him. “His focus at the academy was historical technologies.” 

“I understand that Captain Hart has unique qualifications, Jack, but do you really think that he will fit into our team environment? _Any_ team environment?” she said, waving at the main Hub. “You said yourself that he spent more time under review at the Agency than most.” 

“The Time Agency attracts a certain personality type, Will,” Jack said, defensive. 

“Wonton brutality… disobeying or all out ignoring orders and procedure… rebellion against authority…” Miranda said, ticking off points on her fingers. “And those are the professional concerns. Need I continue on to what you’ve told me about him on a personal level? His hedonistic tendencies involving drugs, alcohol and the carnal… his disloyalty… his cowardice…” 

Jack scrubbed at his face and then let his arms fall to the desk with a double thud. “Sometimes people just need a chance.” 

“Hasn’t Captain Hart used up those chances?” she asked, glaring a bit. 

“I’m not ready to give up on him.” 

Miranda hadn’t expected it to be this difficult. She certainly hoped Jack had not been foolish enough to give that reason to Ianto. 

"I've talked to Ianto and I've warned Gwen. She'll be in tomorrow." 

The backlash from Gwen had been considerable. Jack's ears were still ringing. Ianto? Well… The fact that there had been backlash from Ianto was expected. What was unexpected was how it had happened.

Once the two of them had retreated back in the bunker last night, Ianto had attacked Jack with an animalistic fervor. Miranda had only been half right. Ianto had been up half the night but only part of it had been spent buggering Jack. Once he’d finished pounding Jack into their mattress, Ianto had, in an even and cool tone, asked him what the fuck he was thinking. The deep hurt and disappointment was evident in his husband’s voice. What had made the whole thing worse was the fact that Ianto hadn’t shouted nor yelled, not once. He’d explained to Jack precisely how he felt and presented his argument. He’d listened to Jack do the same. And then they’d politely agreed to disagree. 

This wasn’t like their usual arguments or domestics. Everything was the same between them. They’d fallen asleep, tightly spooned together. After Ianto had finished sparring with Miranda, they’d eaten a light breakfast sitting next to each other on the sofa in his office. It had all been just as it been ad every night and morning previously. But, now, there was a crack between them that extended right into Jack’s heart. The worst part was that every reason Jack had given Ianto, Miranda and Gwen was absolutely and utterly full of crap. 

Shortly after the Time Agency had taken two years of his memories and he’d started running cons, something strange had happened to him. He’d ended up on some strange planet in some strange century. Jack hadn’t really remembered when or where he’d been but it had been well before he’d run into Rose and The Doctor. He’d seen Hart stumbling through the streets at a distance with a woman with teal coloured hair. He’d laughed and had been about to shout to gain Hart’s attention but someone from behind him had said… _He’ll come back to you repentant. Shelter him. Don’t turn him away…_ Before Jack had been able to turn round, the person had gone. 

Living for centuries, the memory tended to get fuzzy. There were plenty of things he’d seen and done, or said and heard that he never remembered. This particular moment hadn’t bubbled up in his mind until last night. It was the look on Hart’s face when he’d told Jack he’d come to say good bye that had done it. Time was like a vast ocean full of eddies and currents. A time traveller learned not to fight the ocean but to ride it. There may be some reason that memory chose to arise in his mind at that particular moment. Jack had gotten a feeling deep in his gut and he'd learned not to ignore such feelings. So Jack had gone with it, offering Hart the job after he’d recognised the piece of tech. He'd been a little taken aback when Hart accepted the job offer. Jack had expected Hart to simply laugh at him or make some rude comment about how boring it would be. At the very least, he’d expected some flippant remark about how Jack was just trying to keep him around. But Hart had simply accepted and gone to work. To Jack, that had been more proof the course of action had been the correct one. The consequences were proving profound, but if his suspicions were correct, then he was maintaining the timeline and that was more important than, well, pretty much anything. 

It also meant that he couldn’t tell anyone the truth. And that made him feel so alone especially now that nearly everyone, including his own husband, was against him. 

"I need you to keep an eye on him,” he told her, flatly. 

She shifted in her seat. She narrowed her eyes and repeated his order as a question in a stony voice. "Keep an eye on him?"

He nodded. "He's sober. Make sure he stays that way when he's on the clock." 

"I'm not a fucking sobriety coach, Jack!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and slamming her hands down on the desk. 

Jack kept a level head. He stood up slowly, and sternly said, “The last time he was tanked out, he threw me off a building, shot Owen, held Ianto at gunpoint, poisoned Gwen and then took her hostage. Watch him. That’s an order.” 

“Jack, I don’t think…” she broke off when she saw the look he was giving her. There really was going to be no budging him on this. At all. _It’s only for a month…_ She took a slow breath in and rolled her shoulders as she slowly exhaled. She managed to step away from Jack without ripping his throat out. As she walked towards his office door, she said, stoically, “He's coming up in a few minutes for his physical.” 

"Discretion please.” 

Miranda didn’t answer him. After she stepped through the office door, she slammed it behind her. The loud bang wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be. When she got to the autopsy bay, Hart was waiting for her. She dug around in the supply cupboard for a gown and handed it to him. "Put this on please." 

"Not necessary," he said. Ignoring the gown, he began to strip. 

"I would prefer it.”  

He caught the deadly air to her voice. He took the gown from her and continued to strip. Like Jack and herself, he seemed to display no shame at nudity but Miranda remained politely turned away until she felt him tug on her sleeve. Miranda employed Ianto's trick of donning a mask of professionalism in a feeble attempt to hide her displeasure.

"Have a seat on the table, please, Captain. You should be more careful with this,” she said. She picked up his red Napoleonic jacket from where he'd draped it over the table. She hung it on the coat stand. Mechanically, she said, "Jack asked me for discretion regarding your personal information but I'd like an approximate age, if you don't mind." 

The former Time Agent surprised her, instead of protesting he seemed to be calculating in his head. “Forty five, give or take." 

"Like Jack, you're mostly human?" she asked. 

"Human enough to check that box on a form," he said with a shrug. 

"I'm also going to assume there aren’t any medical problems?” 

"Healthy as a horse as you people say," he said with a one shouldered shrug. He brushed the side of his hand over the gown, rolling his eyes a bit at it. 

She picked up the rubber tourniquet from the tray. "Your arm, please, Captain?" 

Hart held out his right arm to her without a word. His skin was hot and smooth as she tied the tourniquet around his arm. “This will pinch a bit.” 

She pushed the needle into the bulging vein. The tubes felt unnaturally hot as they filled. Her professional curiosity pushed aside her annoyance. 

"What's your normal body temperature?" she asked with an air of concern, wondering if the former Time Agent was ill. 

He looked to be calculating in his head again. "Thirty eight... point four? Point three maybe? In whatever one of those antiquated measurements this century uses." 

Both her eyebrows shot up. Twenty first century human normal was only thirty seven degrees Celsius. That single degree was significant and considered a fever in this century. Again, professional curiosity got the better of her since Jack's normal body temperature was thirty seven. "Is that common in your time?"

There was another shrug. "No idea, sorry. Could be because of the Ruborian I’ve got in my family… Three? Four generations back? Lots of different people by the fifty first, Dollface.”  

“Stop calling me that, Captain,” she said, automatically. She finished drawing the blood, wondering what the machines would make of him. Her initial exam was already picking up a profoundly low heart rate and blood pressure, but since Hart was still standing and alert, she assumed it was normal for him. 

"Lie back, please." 

She ran the Bekaran scanner down Hart's body, a few anatomic anomalies catching her eye. His lungs were smaller than a twenty first century human’s but they were more efficient. His heart was also big enough that a doctor of this century would consider it enlarged but it seemed to be functioning properly. The morphology of the Captain's spleen was also markedly different than that of a twenty first century human and there were also more blood vessels throughout his liver. Otherwise, the fifty first century man was no different from any other human of this era. Oddly enough, the former Time Agent was more anatomically different from Jack than he was from her, a human being nearly eight thousand years removed from him. 

"You can get dressed, Captain," she said, turning around. "I would tell you you're perfectly healthy but I have no idea if what I'm looking at is abnormal for you or not. I also have no idea what the machines will make of this." She held up the vials of his blood. 

She walked over to the side table, putting the tubes into the centrifuge to spin. She could hear the sounds of Hart getting dressed. Once the blood was spinning, she turned around. He had the gown balled up in his hands, looking about for where he should dispose of it. Miranda took it from him and put it into the laundry bin. He cleared his throat. Miranda swore the sound was almost nervous. 

“Listen, Dollface… about last night… It was nothing personal. Business, you understand,” he said, quietly. 

Miranda turned, glancing upwards towards the camera and then the main Hub. “Our little secret, Captain.” 

Without another word she turned, rearranging the items on the table. Hart took it as a dismissal and left the autopsy bay. He climbed the stairs and turned into the Main Hub. He saw Ianto handing a mug of coffee to another man. _Oh, a blonde…_  

"Trouble?" Fish asked. He nodded towards the red jacketed figure. Jack had called him into his office the moment he'd arrived to explain the new team member. The whole situation was unorthodox to Fish but then again everything had been unorthodox since he'd joined Torchwood. 

"Captain Hart can be… abrasive," was Ianto's diplomatic but gritty answer. Fish didn't miss how the Welshman squared his shoulders, almost bracing himself, as Hart approached.

"Morning, Eye Candy! All suited up I see," Hart said with a leer. "And I see you lot finally got yourselves that blonde. Nice one too.”  

Fish raised his eyes at the… compliment? A little too stunned to form his own reply. 

"Captain John Hart, Doctor Joseph Fischer," Ianto said smoothly, butler persona in full force. "Can I get you anything, Captain?" 

"Oh, so many requests so little time…" When Ianto rolled his eyes, he added, "Just some water, thanks, Eye Candy."

"There is fresh coffee," Ianto said, "and I do have a name, you know."

"But you’re such a beautiful piece of eye candy in that suit… The body's a temple. I don't know how you lot survived, all that processed junk you eat," Hart said with a look of mild disgust. 

Ianto rolled his eyes, yet again. According to Jack, his former partner inhaled, ingested, imbibed or injected all manner of illicit substances far more dangerous than coffee or processed food. 

"You've obviously never seen Jack eat," and then he left to fetch a glass of water.

"Some of us aren't immortal, Eye Candy!" the former Time Agent called after him. 

"Joe Fischer. Everyone here calls me Fish even though I can't get them to stop," the Australian said, holding out his hand. "Good to meet you, Captain." 

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine…” Hart said with a smile and a leer.

Fish finally understood what women meant when they said 'elevator eyes'. Hart was clearly checking him out. He'd been checked out before by women and men but never quite like this. He could feel every piece of his clothing falling to the floor as Hart undressed him with his eyes. He shifted nervously in his chair under the scrutiny and felt a blush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and steeled himself. He had a feeling, like a dog, this man could smell fear and hone in on it. "Umm, Jack said you're here to help analyse the alien tech?"

"Yep, unless you have something more interesting for me?" Hart said with another leer. 

"Not interested in what you're peddling, Captain," Fish said with an eye roll. _God, he's worse than Jack!_  

Hart raised his hands up in surrender. "Right, sorry, twentieth-first century and insecure sexualities, I get it." 

"I'm quite secure in my sexuality, Captain," Fish said hotly. "Twenty-first century lesson number one - the polite brush off. I'm taken." 

"Well, it's good to move out of your comfort zone," Hart said as he stepped into Fish's personal space. 

"Twenty-first century lesson number two - the impolite brush off. Sod off and get stuffed," Fish said, leaning forward aggressively into Hart's face. Fish stood his ground, tolerating the other man's proximity in a strange sort of dick measuring contest. _This is a bit homoerotic…_

"Good to meet you, Joe," Hart said, brightly with a wink.

Ianto cleared his throat, a glass of water on his silver tray. 

"Thanks, Eye Candy,"  Hart said as he took the glass and drank deeply. "Joe? What do you say you and I talk some tech?"

Hart rolled Gwen's desk chair over to Fish's work table and sat down, examining the items of tech that Fish had spread across it. Fish snagged the hot mug off of his workstation and went to join the other man but Ianto caught him by the arm. 

"How did you do that?" Ianto asked under his breath.

"Do what, mate?" Fish asked. 

"Get him to call you by name?"

"Search me! I was hoping you'd tell me so I can try it on you lot!" Fish said with a chuckle. He plopped down next to Hart and the two men started to enthusiastically work.


	5. Chapter 5

After two weeks, Fish had to admit that he was starting to feel sorry for Captain Hart. At first, the former Time Agent had made an attempt to fit in, extending several unsuccessful olive branches to Ianto and Gwen. He'd stopped flirting with Jack and had even tried referring to Ianto by name. He had left Gwen a small box of chocolates that the former PC had chucked into the bin not seconds after she'd discovered them. Each attempt had been met with scorn, and now the fifty first century man had stopped trying. 

Every morning when Fish came in, Hart was already at their work table, sifting through the tech backlog. The two men worked together, efficiently and professionally. Fish was learning a lot from Hart and his own work with the alien tech was improving in leaps and bounds. At the end of the day, Hart either went out to sample Cardiff's nightlife or returned down the north stairs to his spartan room. The former Time Agent had started trying to remain as invisible as possible and was the team pariah. Fish knew what that was like which is why he found himself standing outside John Hart's door this evening. He raised his hand, knocked and waited. After a minute, the door opened to reveal the former Time Agent. His hair was uncombed and he was shirtless. His trousers were unfastened and Fish could smell the distinctive scent of marijuana smoke wafting towards him. With a smile he said, "Evening, John."

"Joe," Hart said, giving him a curious look. "I thought you wanted that analysis tomorrow."

For some reason that Fish couldn't comprehend, Hart acted as if he worked for rather than with him. "For the last time, John, you don't work for me. This is a social call actually.” 

Hart looked surprised but opened up his door and let Fish in. Fish had slept in the staterooms before but Hart had a made a few small changes to the room. The linens and mattress were of a higher quality and there was a large mirror on the side wall. He’d also added a small refrigerator and hotplate. For some reason none of them could understand, Hart had an aversion to processed food. Fish found it to be almost an oxymoron given the amount of illicit substances that were probably in the former Time Agent’s bloodstream right now. He sat down at the small table and gestured at the pipe. "May I?" 

"Help yourself," Hart said with a smile. 

Fish smiled as he picked the metal pipe up, checking that there was still something left in it. It was a small amount, barely worth bothering with but Fish hadn't smoked since he was in university and knew it would hit him hard. He lit the pipe and inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a few seconds before he exhaled and coughed. 

"Woah, easy there!" Hart said, thumping Fish on the back and handing him a bottle of water. 

"Haven't done this stuff in years," Fish said with a laugh, feeling the high hit him immediately. Hart had purchased quality. He smiled enjoying the relaxed and slightly giddy feeling that swept through him. Maybe he should take up the recreation again. Henry would probably disapprove. 

"More where that came from," Hart said as he lifted up a box from the small bookcase. "There are a few other poisons. What's your pleasure, Joe?" 

"Nah, I'm good mate. Came to see if you wanted to go out tonight for some drinks? I could be your wingman." 

"My what?" Hart asked, thoroughly confused.

"Wingman. It's the pilot of a plane that flies to the side of another in formation usually in a dangerous situation for support. It has come to colloquially mean a friend, usually male, who will go out to bars and clubs and help you find a partner for sex," Fish said. He'd gotten used to explaining twentieth and twenty first century slang to the fifty first century time traveller. The flat explanations of colourful expressions were one of the best things Fish liked about his growing friendship with the man. He enjoyed watching Hart's expression change from utter confusion to complete comprehension. 

Hart nodded. "Ah." 

"It'll be fun, I haven't been out to the bar scene in years. There are some clubs up by the city centre, gay and straight," Fish said with a smile. "Let's see if we can get you lucky." 

Hart's gaze turned lecherous. "We don't have to go out for that, Joe." 

Without another word, Hart sank to his knees in front of Fish and started tugging at the other man's belt. The drugs still fogging his brain and the swiftness of the other man caught Fish so off guard that Hart managed to undo his jeans and had his hand inside them before Fish knew what was happening. Before he could stop him, Hart's mouth was on him and Fish's body was reacting of its own accord. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses but he grabbed Hart's head and lifted it off of him, his now hard cock coming free from Hart's mouth with a lewd pop. 

"John, stop!" Fish cried. 

Hart looked up at Fish with a confused look. 

"I didn't come down here for sex. I meant what I said, I'm taken," Fish said. _Christ, it's going to be fun explaining this to Henry…_  

Hart smirked. He stuck out his tongue and gently teased the tip of Fish's cock. "I told you to broaden your horizons… step outside your comfort zone…”  

Fish gasped and started to look fearful, his voice shook a little. "Stop, John." 

Hart slid the elastic band of Fish's briefs back up over his erection. "You know, I'm not that sort of scoundrel, Joe. I do want my lovers to want me." 

"That's not what I was thinking at all, mate," he said. He hadn't thought for a second that Hart would force him into anything. He suddenly realised that Hart may not understand the meaning of the phrase he was using. "I'm taken. It means I'm in a monogamous relationship." 

Hart's eyes went wide. He stood up and backed away from Fish as if the man had some communicable disease. "Shit! I'm sorry, Joe! I'm rubbish with this century!" 

"It's fine, John," Fish said, seeing the genuine remorse in Hart's face. He stood up and refastened his trousers and belt.

"Tell your partner I'm fucking sorry," Hart said, hanging his head. 

"I said it's fine," Fish repeated. "I'm not looking forward to explaining this to Henry but he'll understand. Just a miscommunication. Translation problems." 

Hart still looked so upset. He was hanging his head, shaking it. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" Fish asked, concerned. 

“Where I'm from, it's seriously fucking inappropriate to step between committed partners," Hart said. 

"No offense, mate, but you've been throwing yourself at Jack and Ianto since you got here," Fish said with a bit of a laugh. 

Hart shook his head. "That's all talk, Joe. Just flirting. I offered, they said no, end of story. I do have some scruples even though you lot don't think I do." 

Fish had quickly learned that John Hart was a great deal of talk. The man was a compulsive liar, given to bragging and acting the proverbial peacock. Captain Hart may not know it but Fish, a fair poker player, had learned the man's tell early on. He pursed his lips slightly right before he lied. Fish laid a hand on Hart's arm. “Really, it's fine, John. You didn't understand what I'd said. You didn't know. Listen, the night is young, and there's all of Cardiff before us." 

Hart gave him a weak smile. "I think I'd like that. Let me get changed." 

"I'll be upstairs," Fish said. He left the room to give the man privacy that he was sure Hart didn't require. He went back up to the main floor of the Hub to wait for Hart. He thought the Hub would be deserted but Ianto was standing at one of the workstations in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Fish always thought it strange to see the Welshman in anything other than a suit. Even when Ianto was dressed down, for some odd reason, Fish still felt like he was wearing one. _Must be the way he’s carrying himself…_

"Fish? You're still here?" Ianto said craning his neck.

"Yeah, mate, I knocked off a while ago, was just changing," Fish said. He looked a bit concerned at the screen. “Something wrong? There a spike somewhere?"

"No, just printing out some reports for Mandy that I didn’t get a chance to print out earlier,” Ianto said. "She's got that thing with UNIT week after next.” 

Ianto took in the black jeans and black button down shirt that Fish was wearing with interest. Fish's long blonde hair was slicked back with gel. Fish was dressed for a night out and looked quite handsome. Ianto smirked. Henry wouldn't know what had hit him. 

"Date night with Henry?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow and smiling at his friend. 

"Erm, no," Fish said. 

Just then, Hart bounded up the north stairs. "All set, Joe? Evening, Eye Candy."

Ianto's friendly smile turned to a look of alarm as he took in Hart's appearance. The former Time Agent was wearing tight fitting black leather trousers and a navy blue silk button down shirt. The shirt was half unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up past Hart's elbows. The trousers looked as if they were practically a second skin. The man looked positively predatory. 

"Yeah, John, my car's this way," Fish said. 

"Fish? Wait up a minute,” Ianto said, startled. 

After Hart disappeared towards the Hub garage, Ianto walked over to Fish, concern etched on his face. "Fish, what are you doing? Why are you getting yourself mixed up with John Hart?” 

"It's not what you think, mate. We're just going out for a few friendly drinks," Fish said, a little more than annoyed Ianto thought he was cheating on Henry. 

Ianto warned, " Are you mad or just daft? A few drinks and you could end up in a bad situation! Hart’s dangerous. He could slip you something! He could-”

"When I was a kid, this mutt followed me home," he shouted, interrupting Ianto's tirade. "I begged my parents to let me keep him. He was half starved and they didn't want a dog like that in the house because he could turn on us at any minute so we took him to the shelter. They said it was up to us but all that poor dog wanted was for someone to give him a chance. That dog nearly ripped a night burglar's arm off protecting me and my little sister."

Ianto went to open his mouth to argue but Fish interrupted him. The only other time Ianto had seen Fish this angry was when he had first showed up at the Tourist Office after he'd accidentally stumbled upon Miranda's immortality. 

"Jack avoids him because he’s too fucking afraid to piss you off and then there's you with your butler and your stiff upper lip. Gwen won't even look at him let alone say a fucking word to him. I get that you three have this prejudice when it comes to John and I know that prejudice has merit but he's done nothing since he got here but try to bury the hatchet and aside from Jack offering him a job, the _only_ thing you three have done is throw mud in his eye," Fish said, hotly. “You lot may have your reasons for hating him, but I don't. So I'm going to go have a few drinks with the man." 

Without giving Ianto a chance to reply, Fish turned on his heel and stormed out away.


	6. Chapter 6

Fish took Hart up to a gay club by the city centre. After shaking off his angry encounter with Ianto with a few drinks, he’d smiled and laughed and tried his best to enjoy himself. He’d invited Henry to join them but Henry had declined the invitation. Fish had felt badly about taking a night away from them but Henry had insisted he go out and enjoy himself. Nightclubs really weren't Fish’s thing and he wasn't much of a dancer but Hart wasn't to be dissuaded. He'd dragged Fish onto the dance floor and the two had ended up having a great time. Eventually, Hart had managed to charm someone. Actually, it was more appropriate to say that he’d managed to chose amongst the many men he’d charmed. Fish chuckled as the two of them had stumbled off into the gents together. Shaking his head, his mobile rang. It was a text message from Miranda about a large rift spike.  

With a groan, Fish started to move through the crowd towards the toilets, grateful that the few drinks he’d had were already working their way out of his system. He kept his eyes firmly on his shoes as he walked into the gents. He leaned over, searching for the correct pair of boots. When he found the stall with those boots, there was another pair with them. Fish smiled and shook his head, blushing a bit. Miranda had given them fifteen minutes. He could allow them to finish whatever was going on within reason. He leaned against the wall, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible while he waited. Time went by, Fish checking his watch on occasion. After just over five minutes, Fish walked up to the stall, about to interrupt but the door opened. A grinning man stepped out and made for the door. 

Fish said, loudly over the music, “John? You there, mate?" 

Hart stepped out, simultaneously doing up his trousers. He winked. “Want a turn, Joe?” 

Fish rolled his eyes. Hart may have said it was highly taboo on his planet to step between committed couples but that hadn’t stopped him from suggesting a threesome with him and Henry… several times. "Duty calls." 

"Right," Hart said. He turned all business and headed for the door. 

"You really need to learn about safe sex, John," Fish said seriously as the two of them stepped out into the street. 

"Fifty first century immunity is a beautiful thing," Hart said, winking.  

"I'm serious, mate. You're exposing yourself to diseases that people probably haven't seen for centuries by your time. You've no immunity, no resistance," Fish said as they reached Fish's car. 

"Doesn't work like that anymore, Joe. We learned from small pox and the New World," Hart said tapping his chest as he got into the car. "Humans in my time have genetically modified immune systems. When people first started venturing out into space, there was a lot of plague. We didn't have the ability to fight off alien disease. We’re an impatient lot. We didn’t want to wait for evolution to give us that immunity so we gave it to ourselves. There isn't a disease on this little rock of yours that can take root in me." 

"You're kidding?" Fish said. 

"Nope!" Hart said with a laugh. "What's that big one from this century?"

"Cancer?" Fish asked.

"No, not that one. It’s some sort of acronym," Hart said. His face was scrunched in concentration. He snapped his fingers a few times trying to think. "Fuck… I always was rubbish with the acronym ones…" 

"HIV?" Fish supplied. 

Hart snapped his fingers and pointed at Fish. "That's it! HIV and AIDS. You could inject that shit straight into my blood and I wouldn't get so much as a runny nose." 

"No shit," Fish said with interested. 

"Now, alien illnesses are a different story. I came down with Topolese pox right after I joined the Time Agency that had me in the infirmary for a bloody week. I had a nasty bout of Kastesthian fever when I was a kid that left me deaf." 

"Deaf? You can hear fine," Fish said as he drove. 

"Biological implants," Hart said tapping his ear. “Grown from my own DNA and genetically modified.” 

No wonder Hart always seemed to have such sharp hearing. Fish shook his head as he drove. It wasn't a long way to where they were headed. Miranda had asked them to meet there rest of the team at the Capitol Shopping centre. It wasn’t exactly a long ride for a chat but he’d always been curious about Jack’s time and the future. The immortal man was always tight lipped about it, avoiding questions. Granted, Hart wasn’t telling him anything that wasn’t easily deduced but it was interesting nonetheless. Seeing as Hart was in a talking mood, Fish decided to take advantage of the situation. “I’m surprised people aren't some sort of genetic perfection by your time." 

"It's against the law," Hart said, seriously. “Gestation and life threatening genetic disease, hair colour, eye colour and gender are about all you're allowed to fuck around with prenatally and there are heavy restrictions. You have brown eyes and want a blue eyed kid? You have to be tested to prove you have the ability to pass on blue eyes. You want a female child? You better already have a male. The penalty is pretty harsh for doing anything else. The prosecutors are ruthless.”

"They'll send you to prison for genetic manipulation?" Fish gasped. 

"The parents go to prison. The physicians who perform the procedures are stripped of their licence to practice and barred from healing for life. They go to prison too. What happens to the kid is worse… reproductive sterilisation and black listing. They go on a registry list for life. They're barred from most professions and any medical reproductive intervention," Hart said. He shifted in his seat and fiddled with his seat belt. "There's also a serious social stigma attached to being genetically enhanced.” 

"Christ," Fish said and then realised something. "How is it your hearing's genetically modified then?"

"The illness made me deaf because of a genetic defect in my hearing. I would’ve gone deaf on my own by the time I was twenty," Hart said with a shrug. “If they're correcting a problem, the original can be improved upon as long as it's within a standard deviation of the human average." 

"You hear like a fucking hawk!" Fish exclaimed. 

"A standard deviation of the fifty first century human average," Hart said with a sneer. What he didn't mention was that his conniving father had taken advantage of that small loophole, bending the rule until it almost broke. He’d paid the right amount of money to the right doctor. Hart's hearing had been modified to the very edge of the standard deviation plus the margin of medical error. What he also didn’t mention was that he’d long suspected his father had infected him with Kastesthian fever on purpose as an excuse for the genetic engineering. There was no way the man couldn’t have known about the genetic hearing defect, there was too much prenatal testing. 

"Good to know I'm a fucking caveman," Fish said sarcastically. 

"Don't think about it like that," Hart said. He waved out of the car window. "This level of society? It's a big achievement. Not every planet bound species out there has this or wants it for that matter. The big evolutionary changes started when humans broke out into space and mixed with alien species.”

"Survival of the fittest," Fish mused. "Darwin’d be pleased."

"Who?"

"Charles Darwin? The man who theorised evolution?" Fish said with disbelief. _How can this man not know who Charles Darwin is?!_

"I vaguely remember the name. There's a lot more history to memorize by my time."  

It was a few more minutes before Hart spoke. He nodded towards the steering wheel as he did, "I should probably learn to do that." 

"What? Drive?" Fish said, surprised. “You’ve been skulking about the planet for years. You never learned how to drive?” 

Hart shook his head. "Nah, didn't think I was staying for long, did I?" He tapped his wrist strap. “And I’ve never needed to learn.” 

"Well, I can teach you," Fish said. He gave into another curiosity. "Why did you stay anyway?" 

Hart shrugged and looked out the window. 

"Was it Evie?" Fish asked with a sly smile. 

"What? By the Twins, no!” Hart said, aghast. He shifted a little in his seat and Fish could tell he'd hit it close to the mark. Fish wasn’t blind. He saw the way the two of them acted around each other. Angry barbs and sarcastic eye rolls were constantly tossed between them, like teenagers. One was always constantly trying to irritate or annoy the other. No one else may have noticed because they were too busy hating Hart but Fish could see it clear as day. He knew chemistry when he saw it and the two of them had it and they didn’t even realise it. Miranda was constantly calling Jack woefully obtuse but she was just as bad sometimes. Fish thought it was worse because Miranda was thousands of years old. What was it his father used to say? _Growing old’s inevitable. The wisdom’s optional._

"Why do you call her that anyway?" Hart asked, trying to change the subject.

"She was using a different name when I met her about… Christ, nearly twenty years ago now. I can't think of her as anything else. I tried calling her Miranda at first but I slipped up so much I gave up," Fish replied. The attempt at a subject change wasn’t going to side track him. He smirked and asked, "You fancy her?" 

"Impossible little minx," Hart said with a snort. “Not worth the trouble. There’s easier game out there.”  

Fish smiled inwardly. The two of them were really clueless. He decided to let the subject drop. He drove into the car park and started looking around for the SUV. He wasn't surprised to find it parked with the front wheel up on the kerb. Fish parked behind the SUV and got out.

"Where is everyone?" Hart asked, looking at his wrist strap. “They got here first.” 

"Don't know…" Fish craned his neck looking around and then the two men heard what sounded like the popping of gunfire. 

"Fuck!" Fish shouted, opening the glove box and reaching for his gun. Hart, his own weapon already drawn, was running towards the shops. 

"John! Wait!" Fish yelled. 

Hart stopped at the door, giving Fish a glare of impatience but he knew that they'd both get the fourth degree from Jack if they split up. With six members of the team, Jack had started to insist they remain in pairs at all times. Jack preferred one mortal member of the team to be paired with an immortal one but this would have to do. 

Fish jogged and caught up to Hart who flung the glass door open and stepped inside, gun drawn. No sooner had the two men moved down the hall than the glass front of the shops exploded and over a dozen humanoids dressed in black tactical gear sprawled onto the tile floors. 

"Don't move!" Fish shouted, raising his weapon and advancing slowly. 

Hart grabbed Fish by the arm and yanked him out of the way just as one of the beings fired some manner of projectile weapon at them, several shots echoing in the empty building. The two of them ended up pressed against the wall behind a decorative pillar for cover. 

"Thanks," Fish said. 

"Don't mention it," Hart said.

"Oh, fuck! John, you're hit!” Fish said, looking at Hart's arm. The silk shirt’s sleeve was torn and blood was flowing freely. 

"Flesh wound," Hart said, peering around the pillar. A few more shots came their way. "You know this evening is turning into a complete cock up. That blow job back at the club was fantastic. They're getting away." 

Fish and Hart both dashed after the group who were ignoring them as they sprinted for the nearest exit. Hart fired off a few warning shots, yelling at them in some odd language, but they continued to run. 

Fish looked behind him, to see if any of the others were there and saw no one. He took a breath and stopped. One was trailing behind the others. Fish took careful aim and fired off one round. The bullet flew threw the air and landed in the straggler's legs. He stumbled and fell with a screech. One of his comrades went to help but stopped at the sight of Fish and Hart descending. He turned and fled with the others. The injured person was clearly begging not to be abandoned. 

“Go and be careful!” Fish said as he bent down to restrain the injured assailant. Hart nodded and bolted for the door. 

After he took out some plastic restraints, Fish rolled the injured man onto his belly, securing his wrists behind his back as he cried and flailed. ‘Man’ was probably a strong word. Fish thought he looked no more than a teenager. Just as he got the restraints tightened, Jack and Ianto turned the corner. 

"Fish!" Jack shouted. "We were outside, what happened?"

"John and I got here and heard what sounded like gunfire. We thought you lot were in trouble so we came to help," Fish said. He jerked his head in the appropriate directions. "A dozen plus beings, humanoid, came diving through the shop window. They shot at us and then ran out that door. John's in pursuit." 

"This is a good shot, Fish," Ianto said, examining the injury of the bound boy.  

"We thought the reading was over on Station Terrace, must’ve been just inside the building," Jack said. He poked at the boy with his boot. "Hey! Who are you?" 

The injured boy only cried out in pain and sobbed. Hart came back through the exit door looking thoroughly put out. "Sorry, they went down Newport Road and I lost them. We need to find them. They’re all wearing what looks like tactical gear.”  

"Jack? Where's Evie? John's been shot," Fish said. 

"What?" Jack crossed over to his former partner. 

"It's just a flesh would, Jack," Hart said, backing away. He waved Jack off, dismissive of his injuries. 

"I want Will to take a look at it anyway," Jack said. "Let's get this one back to the Hub and into interrogation. It’s our best lead in finding the rest of them.”


	7. Chapter 7

"Some clean clothes for you, Captain," Ianto said, dropping a fresh t-shirt onto the autopsy table next to him. 

"Thanks, Eye Candy," Hart said as he sat on the autopsy table. 

"It's my job," Ianto said and then turned to leave. 

"Tell Jack not to start without me," Hart said called after him. 

Ianto turned, and for a moment, it looked to Miranda as if he was about to say something flip. It seems the Welshman thought better of whatever remark was on the tip of his tongue and, instead, joked, “Something I'm used to telling him quite frequently.” 

Hart laughed and Ianto continued up the autopsy bay stairs.

"Ianto?" he called out and when Ianto turned to look at him. "Thanks, really." 

“Of course, Captain," Ianto said. He gave Hart a tight smile and then left the autopsy bay. 

Miranda raised an eyebrow. It was the first gesture of friendliness she’d seen from Ianto towards Hart. At first, the whole team had reacted to Hart’s presence with extreme negativity. The amount of disharmony alone was a reason for his dismissal and Miranda had brought it up more than once with Jack over the past two weeks. Torchwood was more than a workplace. They were a family. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. Of course, the addition of another member would disrupt any team’s dynamic but Hart’s presence was creating all out hostility. 

Ianto and Gwen had both refused to speak to Hart unless absolutely necessary and, in Gwen’s case, sometimes not even then. Often, Gwen wouldn’t so much as look at the man. At first, Jack had treated his former partner in a friendly manner but that had stopped very quickly. Miranda assumed he was hanging back to appease his husband. The two former Time Agents only ever spoke briefly, after dark, when Ianto went about his night routine. Since he had to work closely with Hart, Fish had taken pity and formed a friendship. Hart had latched onto the Australian immediately. 

Unfortunately, that friendship had dropped Fish into pariah status along with Hart. Gwen and Ianto were both acting chilly towards the technician. Fish was taking it in positive stride, rising above the petty behaviour. Though Ianto had been acting strangely towards Fish for some time now. Miranda, on the other hand, was ambivalent. She had no personal issue with Hart so she was hanging in the shadows, neither befriending the man nor openly shunning him. She knew it wasn’t the best solution. She was second in command here and mediating this sort of problem was her job but there really wasn’t anything to mediate. There was no compromise for anyone to reach. Nothing Miranda could say would make a speck of difference. Either Gwen and Ianto would either bury the hatchet or they wouldn’t. Though they would probably prefer to bury said hatchet right into Hart’s skull. 

Ianto’s small joke was the first time the Welshman had ever shown Hart anything but scorn. Miranda had assumed that Gwen and Ianto’s treatment of Hart hadn’t bothered the former Time Agent but there was relief on his face, as if a small burden had rolled off of him. Maybe she’d been remiss in staying out of the conflict but it seemed moot to get involved now that it appeared to be on its way to resolution. 

When Hart had begun his work, he’d tossed himself about the place, figuratively speaking. He’d peacocked. He’d postured. He’d put on a bit of a show but after only a few days he’d settled and most of that had stopped. Sure, they still saw some of the psychotic hedonist but its appearances weren’t as frequent and were more subdued. She wasn’t sure if it was because the posturing wasn’t working or because Hart was simply becoming more comfortable in his surroundings. She suspected it was a bit of both. 

She’d been suspicious of Hart’s motives for accepting the trial period and staying, but now, a genuine enjoyment of the work appeared to be motivating him. Fish said that Hart found it challenging and enjoyable. Not only was he dedicated to his work and doing his work well, he was beginning to prove himself as trustworthy. In truth, she’d expected Hart to disappear in the night but every morning he was at Fish’s table, diligently working. Now he’d injured himself protecting one of their own even if it was slightly accidental in nature. 

Miranda picked up the scissors from the instrument tray. She cut the sleeve off of his silk shirt and then slit it up to his shoulder, exposing the wound. The bullet had gone through and through Hart's bicep, leaving a clean wound track. After she cleaned away the dried blood, she examined the wound more carefully with the deep tissue scanner. Hart's entire upper arm was turning a mottled purple, large bruises forming. It reminded him of the first night he'd arrived as she injected the anaesthetic around the wounds and started to stitch. This time she waited for the medication to take effect. After she was done stitching, she leaned in close to examine her handiwork. 

"This is badly bruised. I’m going to give you something for the pain." 

"Not necessary, Dollface. I want to stay sharp for the interrogation," Hart said and hopped off the autopsy table. He reached for the clean t-shirt Ianto had brought him. 

"It is necessary, Captain," Miranda insisted as she watched Hart struggle with the t-shirt. "You can barely lift your arm!" 

She moved over to him and helped him tug the shirt on, he grunted a little when he moved his injured arm. 

"I'm a fast healer," he said, dismissively, as he walked towards the autopsy bay stairs. 

“There’s no reason for you to be in discomfort,” she insisted. 

Hart sighed. He hung his head, shaking it a bit. He looked at her and then craned his neck, looking up into the main Hub. Once he was certain they were alone, he descended the stairs and stood opposite her. For the first time, there wasn’t a single hint of the psychotic hedonist. She was glimpsing Hart himself. No, not Hart… This wasn’t John Hart looking at her. This was someone else. This was the real man. He looked tired and he looked ashamed. It was a raw vulnerability that tugged at her heart. Miranda felt like she was looking into a mirror. 

He tilted his head and said, quietly, “There’s a purity in pain. Sometimes it’s the only pure and clean thing about me.” 

It was one of the most honest things she’d heard in a long time. She couldn’t think of any words of her own so she turned to something Fish had quoted to her once. “‘Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence.’” 

Hart quirked a half smile at her. “I like that.” 

She was looking him in the eyes so she didn’t notice his right hand twitch, nearly reaching for her. She pushed her finger into his bruised arm and he winced. 

“Life sometimes stones us enough on its own,” she said, giving him a soft smile. She turned and opened the pharmacy cupboard. She took out some tablets and handed them to him. He dry swallowed them. A small nod was the only thanks he gave as he left the room. When he got to the top of the stairs, he turned, watching her as she cleaned up. He lingered only a second before he continuing on. Just as he disappeared from sight, Miranda looked up, seeing only Hart’s boots vanishing around the corner.

Miranda was right, Hart wasn’t oblivious to the way people around here were treating him. He’d accepted it because he knew he deserved every bit of it. Gwen and Ianto hated him and they had good reason. When Ianto had shown him that tiniest kindness, Hart was grateful. He’d been trying to make amends and maybe it was finally starting. He looked around the main Hub as he walked through. He was surprised how infectious the spirit of this place was. He stopped for a moment and looked back towards the autopsy bay. _She’s growing on you_ … the evil voice in Hart’s mind snickered at him. He shook it off. _Like a fucking fungus_ … 

Jack was waiting outside the interrogation room, his head down and his arms crossed over his chest. He'd been watching the young man they'd captured from the shops. He was just a kid, couldn't be more than twenty. Jack already had his suspicions about exactly who these people were. Hart came around the corner looking a little strange.

"You okay?" Jack asked. 

"Fine. Let's do this. It'll be like old times, Jackie boy," Hart said. 

"I think they're Linearists," Jack said and Hart rolled his eyes. 

"Great. I give him three minutes before he tells us who his parents are and threatens us," Hart said with a roll of his eyes. "You want to be the bad cop or the worse cop?"

"He's already squirming, I say less than one," Jack said. Despite himself, he smiled. It was just like old times. "I'll be the bad cop."

"Oh, goody," Hart said and then clapped his hands, rubbing the together. This was his favourite part.  

“Ready?” Jack asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Hart replied. 

Jack opened the door for Hart who bolted through it, rushing at the young man restrained to the chair. Hart grabbed two fistfuls of the kid's shirt and pushed, tipping the chair backwards.

"I don't appreciate getting shot at. It makes me angry," Hart snarled, he reached behind him and drew his gun, pressing it to the kid's temple. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” 

The kid was terrified. Jack had to give him points for keeping control of his bladder. Jack had the benefit of the Time Agency and time travel and he still thought this century was a bit backwards. Humans always looked back on past centuries as being ignorant and barbaric. This kid wouldn’t realise Hart’s aggression wasn’t real. Jack knew when time travel was invented. He knew this kid was far enough in the future that to him, this was the equivalent of being stuck in the Spanish Inquisition. 

"You can shoot him after we get what we need out of him," Jack said, flatly. 

"He's not going to tell us anything. Right? Please. Don’t tell us anything. I really want to shoot him,” Hart said, grinning. 

"Suit yourself, but don't shoot him in here," Jack said with a shrug.

Hart smiled and started to drag the interrogation chair from the room, whistling a tune. “One of the cells?"

"Yeah they've got drains," Jack said. 

"Wait! Wait!" the kid screamed. 

"What? You want to squeal now?" Hart said drawing his knife and pressing the point into the kid's cheek. It wasn't enough to draw blood but it was enough to scare him… not that the kid needed any more scaring.  

"You won't believe me!" he shouted.

"What? What won’t we believe?" Hart said digging the point in a little. 

"I'm from the future!" the kid blurted. "I can tell you anything you want to know! I swear!"

They smiled. This had been too easy. The two former Time Agents held up their wrists. 

"Funny thing kid, so are we," Jack said, tapping the vortex manipulator. "You Linearists know all about avoiding the Time Agency."

The two of them watched the terror on the kid's face with sick satisfaction. 

"Nothing new here," Hart said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together again. "Okay, now I get to shoot him."

"Wait! Wait! My Dads! They're on the Heronian senate! You can't!" he shrieked and Hart gave Jack a pointed look. 

"Funny thing about going back in time, kiddo, your Daddies aren't here," Hart sneered, circling behind the young man. He leaned, whispering in his ear. "And there's no Heronian senate on twenty first century Earth."

Hart let that information sink in for a few minutes and then tipped the interrogation chair backwards and started to drag it towards the door. He said, gleefully, “Okay, now I get to kill him!”

"No, please! What do you want to know?!" the kid shrieked. 

Hart grinned and Jack struggled to maintain his poker face. It had been so easy, it’d nearly taken the fun out of it. Nearly. 

"Everything," Hart snarled, putting the chair down. He began flipping the knife in his hands. The kid’s eyes widened with fear. Jack reached forward and took the knife out of his hands. He tossed it onto the table and gave Hart a glare. 

"Let's start with what year you're from and go from there," Jack said. He tried to keep his face friendly. 

The kid immediately latched onto Jack. He blurted, “4683! We were only going back a few centuries!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. Fish had shown him the time travel device strapped to their prisoner. He was shocked. “That piece of trash you rode here? You're lucky you got here in one piece. We should be scraping you into a soup cup." 

The kid blanched. "They said it was safe!" 

Jack wanted to laugh at the naiveté. "What was your mission?" 

“We weren't supposed to come back this far! We weren't to land on Earth!" the kid shouted. "We were going to Maroset Two around 4300! We were just going to drop some smoke grenades at their spring festival!" 

“How many of you?” Jack asked. 

“Thirteen!” the kid answered, immediately. 

"Who are the others with you? Human?"

"I don't know!” he shouted.

"How do we contact them?" Jack asked.

"I don't know! We weren't supposed to get separated! My tele-unit isn't working anymore," the kid said. 

Hart grabbed a fistful of the kid's hair and tilted his head side to side. He saw the small ear bud and reached to dig it out.

"Stop! It's a translator! I won't understand you if you take it out!" he shouted. 

"Good, we're done here," Hart said as he pocketed it the ear bud.


	8. Chapter 8

The Torchwood team was gathered around the boardroom table in their usual seats. They had become traditional over time. Jack was at the head of the table with Ianto on his right. Everyone, well everyone except probably Hart, knew that Ianto's chair was angled towards Jack so that his dress shoe was touching Jack's boot. Gwen was on Jack's left, her hands folded in her lap. Miranda was at her usual place at the foot of the table with Fish on her left. When Hart joined the team, he had taken the only seat available to him on Miranda's right which was, unfortunately, right next to Gwen. Since Hart’s arrival, Gwen had edged her seat as close to Jack’s as possible. There was a large assortment of items in the middle of the table. All had been taken off of the kid from the future. 

"Fish you want to start us off?" Jack said. 

The technician tapped the tablet in front of him, bringing up the display. He sounded weary, his voice rough. It was very late. 

“Right, so, the energy reading at the Capitol Shopping Centre wasn't technically a rift spike. Our equipment picked up an increase in rift energy and an accompanying fluctuation brought on by a piece of future technology, specifically time travel technology,” Fish said. He rubbed at one of his eyes. "It utilised the rift energy and dropped a group of people… Sorry, thirteen you said, Jack?”

Jack nodded in response.

“Thirteen individuals from the future on our heads. You said you and John had some background for us?”  

Hart cleared his throat. He gestured on the table top as he spoke. “By Jack and mine’s time, humanity’s expanded out into what’s called the Great and Bountiful Human Empire. It spans across three separate galaxies, the Milky Way is in the middle. The two other closest galaxies, the Canis Major Dwarf and the Sagittarius Dwarf Sphere, are the satellite regions.”

“You’re certain is safe to tell us all that?” Fish asked. 

Jack and Hart nodded. “It’s not like we’re telling you anything that’s breaking news,” Hart said, shrugging. “You already know there are aliens. You’ve seen humanity break into space. This isn’t really anything you couldn’t have guessed from a few intuitive leaps.” 

Jack continued, “Anyway, when time travel was first invented, a lot of people thought it would be the end of existence. Like anything that controversial, it stirred things up and terrorist organisations formed. One used the technology to travel backwards in time. The media dubbed them, ‘The Linearists’.”

“They targeted the history of key planets in the core of the Empire,” Hart said, gesturing with his finger pointed at the table. “They'd choose a smaller city on a significant planet, travel back in time and commit nuisance crimes." 

“They travelled back in time to commit nuisance crimes?” Gwen asked, unbelieving. She looked at Jack when she spoke.  

“Mostly vandalism. Sometimes they'd do something as big as interrupt utilities," Jack said, shrugging. "This kid says their original plan was to disrupt a planet's spring festival by dropping some smoke bombs."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why use a technology you believe could wipe out the universe?" Miranda asked. 

Hart and Jack both shrugged as if they really didn’t care about the answer. 

"I didn't say it made sense, Will. I said it's what they did,” Jack said. "The group was largely composed of young people, teenagers and university age kids. They’d usually travel in groups of between five and ten. A group this large isn’t unheard of but I've never heard of them traveling back this far."

“Seems an like an awful lot of people to drop some smoke bombs,” Gwen said, mostly to herself. 

"I believe the kid, Jack. He said it was a mistake," Hart said. He waved his hand by his ear. “That early technology? It was a fucking mess. They're lucky they made it here alive." 

"What sort are we talking about here, Jack? Chavs?" Gwen asked.

Jack shook his head. "Oddly enough we're going to be dealing with the Empire’s elite - university age kids who are used to privilege and money." 

"So, well educated spoiled brats. Fantastic," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. "What century are they from?"

"This one's from the forty seventh century, it's just before the fad died out."

"Fad?" Fish said and gestured at the equipment on the boardroom table. Not all of it was benign. “This was a fad?"

"The movement was more political than anything else, a lot of talk. There were some extremists, other members of the movement who wanted to cause a temporal paradox, but mostly, it was young kids looking for a way to rebel who had too many opinions and way too much money," Jack said. He gestured at the equipment. “Run through the tech with us, Fish."

“Our little delinquent was well equipped. I've arranged everything into rough groups,” Fish said, gesturing at each item in turn. "We have a bunch of items for his own protection. This tactical vest is similar to our time current body armour. It will stop knives and bullets. There is some repelling equipment, a length of rope and some carabiners. There was also a small ear piece that functions as a translation and communication device. This is your basic torch. There are some other tools, a few of those automatically molding adjustable screwdrivers - glad to have more of those - an adjustable spanner and a wire cutter. This is a small collapsable trowel. There were two knives of different sizes and a projectile weapon, that is basically no different from our sidearms." 

"Have you gotten ballistics information yet?" Miranda asked.

“They're copper slugs, just like our bullets but of a shape and size that no time current bullets will work in this weapon," Gwen said. “Whatever ammo they have with them is what they're limited to.” 

“And we think that what they have isn’t much. This kid just had the clip that was loaded, nothing else. There was also this," Fish said pointing to a small tin. He wiggled the top off to reveal a white block. He opened another similar looking tin that appeared to be filled something that looked like button batteries. "It's an explosive. Inert right now but combine it with those detonators and you will get a very big boom. This block could destroy the Hub, the Millennium Centre and the Plass."

Gwen whistled. "Wow…" 

“Evie?”

Miranda stood up after Fish nodded at her and tugged a small bag towards her, also indicating several items in turn. "There were some other incidentals on our friend. We have some ready meal bars and a canteen of water. There’s also a small personal first aid kit, bandages and the like. My examination indicates that he is mostly human. Jack has informed me that may not be the case for the others but that they may be human enough to go unnoticed. Do they have means to return to their own time, Jack?"

“Absolutely. These weren't suicide missions. These kids went back in time, made some mischief, and went home so they could tell everyone," Jack said and then nodded towards Fish. “But…” 

Fish flipped open the tactical vest, the inside appeared to be covered in circuitry. “We have their time travel device and John's right. I'm amazed they made it here alive." 

"That's a completely daft place to put that!" Gwen said with a shake of her head.

"It's a early model of our vortex manipulators - larger, bulkier and inaccurate," Hart said and then tapped his wrist strap. “With the proper calculations, this is accurate to plus or minus three attoseconds and can carry up to three people, more if you’re willing to sacrifice some accuracy and maybe lose your lunch. This thing? I’m guessing it's plus or minus a couple of fucking centuries and one person will be lucky to get to their destination without having to be scraped off the walls.” 

“Sports car vs golf cart. The worst bit?” Fish said, tapping the vest. “The jump was too much for it. It’s burned out. Likely the other devices are fried as well.” 

"They're all stranded here and they are going to be panicked. They're used to sweeping in, doing what they came here for and then leaving,” Jack said, waving at the equipment in front of him. “They probably don’t have enough supplies with them.” 

“They could have one device still working,” Miranda said, optimistic. 

“If they did, we would’ve picked up them leaving,” Fish said, waving towards the main Hub. “This device is only made to carry one person at a time. It’d be nothing short of a miracle if even one of their devices is functioning. They’re fucked.” 

"This century is far back enough that they're going to be completely lost," Hart said. He waved at the technology in front of them. “They won't understand the current media, the Internet, the social customs, the economy…" 

"You seem to be doing pretty well," Fish said to Hart.

Hart looked to Jack for a second and Jack gave him a small nod of permission. Hart said, "When Jack and I were at the Time Agency, this was our territory, Earth’s Industrial Revolution through First Contact." 

"You're always saying you're rubbish in this century, Vera," Gwen teased. Her tone wasn’t playful, it was nasty. 

“You might know the American colonies rebelled against England, but that doesn’t mean you’d do well dropped into eighteenth century America,” Hart said, sarcastically. “There's a difference between knowing history and living it.”  

"All right everyone, focus," Jack said, cutting off the argument. "These kids are going to stick together. They're not going to be able to pay for anything so they'll be on the street. Fish? First thing in the morning, let's start with the CCTV footage, see if we can't narrow down where these kids ended up. Gwen, the locals are going to be important with this one, these kids are going to get desperate enough to start stealing when their supplies run low. All right everyone, it's two in the morning. They’ve probably bunkered down for the night so we’re going to do the same. I don't want to see anyone back here before ten."


	9. Chapter 9

Jack had told everyone to get some sleep but Miranda felt restless. Since she couldn’t shake the feeling, she decided exercise would help and headed to the gym with her sword. She turned, swinging her blade in a high arc as she spun. She landed and rolled. She turned and leapt. She tried to make her moves as graceful as possible. She darted backwards and forwards, using as much of the mat’s surface area as she could. The sweat dripped down her face and her breath heaved in her chest. Normally, she did this to music, but since it was so late, she’d opted for silence. She wasn’t the only person who lived in the Hub. The only sound was her feet on the mat and metal slicing the air. 

“You’ve got excellent form,” a voice said from the doorway. 

Miranda turned, raising the blade defensively. It was John Hart. She wiped her brow and said with contempt, “What do you know of such things?” 

He turned, highlighting the kitana hanging from his hip. “You think this is just a decoration?” 

Miranda let out a scoff. “The sword is an antiquated weapon in this century. I can’t imagine it being anything more than a historical hobby in the fifty first.” 

Hart smirked. He gripped the hilt and the scabbard, holding it parallel to the ground. He made a great show of unsheathing the sword with a smirk on his face then tossed the scabbard down onto the mat. He leaned backwards, widening his stance and holding the sword above his head. After a bow from his shoulders, he turned his palm face up, gesturing with his hand.

“C’mon, Dollface,” he said, smugly.

For a minute, she thought about not accepting the challenge. Miranda saw no reason to show off nor wound the Captain’s pride but there was skill in the way he was standing. She gave into her curiosity and bowed low. She wondered who would attack first. 

“I expect you to hold nothing back,” she insisted. 

“Likewise!” he shouted and lunged. 

She easily parried the blow but her riposte missed. Hart dodged her. He lifted the blade, swinging it downwards. The clang of metal echoed in the empty space as Miranda blocked him. She had to give him a great deal of credit. He lasted a few minutes. That’d be impressive for an immortal of the Game but it was astounding in a mortal, especially one who was injured. His mistake wasn’t even amateur. Miranda had simply out manoeuvered him. Hart was laying flat on his back looking up at her. He smiled and winked. He held out his hand so she could help him up. Miranda hesitated and then helped Hart to his feet. 

“Where did you learn the sword?” she asked, genuinely curious. 

“Picked it up here and there,” he said with a shrug. He began examining the edge for damage. He was lying but he knew she wasn’t exactly being honest either because the next thing he said was, “Same as you.”  

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. Jack hadn’t told Hart about her or Ianto. Since Gabriel Morris died taking a bullet for her, Miranda refused to hide her immortality from Torchwood team members. Hart was different. Not only did no one trust him with the information, no one exactly expected heroics from him. When he had pulled Fish to safety earlier, it had been looked upon with suspicion. Miranda didn’t expect him to stay past his trial period. The more likely scenario would be that Hart vanishing into the night. She wasn’t about to trust the secret of the Game to this transient. He didn’t know she was immortal and probably assumed she was her age of appearance - her early twenties. 

She changed the subject as she examined her own blade, “And where did you pick up that particular sword?”  

“Sixteenth century Kyoto,” he said, as if he were mentioning the name of the corner market. 

“May I?” she asked.

Hart turned and, without warning, tossed the blade at her. Miranda leaned, catching it by the hilt. She swung the sword, cutting the air with it. Miranda’s eyes widened. This sword was a piece of master craftsmanship. Swords like this only existed in museums and a few were in the hands of immortals of the Game. Hart wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what he was carrying. She handed the sword back to him with infinite care. He picked up his Napoleonic jacket off the mat. 

“You should be far more careful with both of those, Captain,” she said, a bit annoyed at the carelessness. 

“They’re just things, Dollface,” he said with a shrug. 

“So like a man of the future to think a piece of history is disposable,” she said with scorn. 

“So like a human of the past, thinking history is _in_ disposable,” Hart said, with equal scorn. He waved around. With a frank tone, he said, “You lot like to think history can last forever because they like to think they can last forever… their lives or their memory. They’re afraid of death or afraid of being forgotten when both are inevitable. You don’t strike me as a someone who’s afraid of dying.”

Miranda didn’t answer him. She heard the plastic of the mats crinkle as Hart stepped towards her. 

“Why are you afraid of being forgotten?” he asked. 

In memory of his honesty earlier, she said softly, “You’re mistaken, Captain. I’m afraid of forgetting.” 

She still wasn’t facing him but she heard him bend down and pick up the discarded scabbard. He sheathed the sword, not looking up. Since Hart seemed to be in a chatty mood, Miranda turned and asked, “Can I ask you something, Captain?”

“You just did, Dollface,” he said, flatly. He didn’t turn around. 

“Why are you still here?” she asked. 

Hart smirked, thinking he’d caught a bone. “Why? Afraid I’ll tell the good Captain about your little bit of sabotage?” 

“ _Our_ little bit of sabotage,” she corrected. She’d caught him red handed about to do what she’d already done. His denial made her angry. “Do you remember what you told Ifan when he asked why you helped Gray exact his revenge?” 

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said. He wasn’t repeating his words but said them as if he were explaining himself again. 

She snapped her blade into its own scabbard with a clack. He opened his mouth to say something but Miranda cut him off. “Ifan’s right. There’s always a choice but a decision isn’t about a choice. It’s about the consequences. You had a choice. Help Gray and live. Refuse Gray and die. Dying wasn’t an acceptable consequence for you. You chose to live. It’s a choice few here understand, Captain. But I do. The path to survival is rarely pure and noble. You did try to put it right in your own way.”

He didn’t answer her. He muttered under his breath. “A question of honour…” 

Miranda pretended she hadn’t heard him since she didn’t think he intended her to. “Jack made his choice, Captain. He made the choice with the consequences he could live with. It was the wrong choice and he knows it. One day, Jack may make another wrong choice. He will think his brother can be saved. So, I made a choice and I will accept those consequences. His thoughts will leap in only one direction once Gray is dead and that is towards me. I’m also prepared to accept those consequences.” 

“For the same reasons I was?” Hart asked, genuinely curious. “He break your heart too?”

She smiled even though she was turned away and Hart couldn’t see her. She said, quietly, “No. We broke each other’s,” and then changed the subject. “You still haven’t answered my question, Captain.” 

He let out a snort and said, “What? This planet was boring. I came here and it stopped being boring. Does there have to be another reason?” 

She wanted to roll her eyes at the obvious lie and posturing. She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Considering your actions with the ‘radiation cluster bombs’ and Jack’s brother? It’s advisable. Considering what I’ve heard from Jack? Absolutely.” 

He didn’t answer her. He just walked out of the room. She pursued him. He was walking away from her as fast as he could without running. Instead of taking the obvious route to his room, Hart stepped up into the main Hub. Miranda continued to follow him. Maybe she should have let it go but something in her wouldn’t. 

“I asked you a question, Captain,” she pressed as he walked towards Jack’s office. 

Hart shoved the door open and it banged against the wall. _Prying little bitch…_

Miranda cast a nervous look at the closed hatch. The noise was loud enough it had probably woken Ianto. Then again, her presence should have been enough to do that. Down in the gym, she was out of the young immortal’s range but now she was well within it. Miranda finally saw where the former Time Agent was headed. Hart opened the bottom drawer of Jack’s desk for the hidden whiskey bottle. He didn’t bother with a glass. 

“Have a drink with me, Dollface,” Hart said, waving the bottle at her. 

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” she repeated. 

Hart laughed, drinking down more of the liquor. “What if I told you, it’d already happened? That I’d been here and knew I had to be here.” 

“Could you tell me why?” she asked. 

He laughed again, taking another long swig off the bottle. He was a time traveller that understood reality. Eventually, you encounter a time and a place where you’re dead. If you bounced around enough, sometimes you even got to narrow it down to when and where; sometimes even how. The look in everyone’s eyes when they’d seen him was practically proof positive. What else could it have been? Miranda wouldn’t have been so upset if he’d just gone to the corner shop. They wouldn’t have been so surprised to see him. He didn’t want to think about it. He’d spent so long trying to avoid his own inevitable demise. He didn’t want to admit he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Now that he thought the moment was finally upon him, he didn’t want to admit he was afraid that his life hadn’t meant anything. He didn’t want to admit that his nihilism wasn’t working for him. What had he ever done but take up space? But there was something about her that drew honesty out of him like some poultice pulling poison from a wound. 

“Because I die. And maybe I want my life to mean something before I do that.” 

“You didn’t strike me as a man afraid of death,” she said, throwing his own words back at him. “And you’re a liar. Have you ever said an honest thing in your life that you didn’t try to back out of?” 

He snickered, pushing aside some of the things on Jack’s desk aside. He stepped around to its front and then hopped up so he was sitting on it. He spread his legs and patted the wood between them. 

“What do you say, Dollface? How about a send off? You? Me? This sturdy desk? No paralyzing lip gloss. Cross my heart and hope to die… stick a needle in my eye.” 

Miranda stepped forward, the smell of the liquor increasing. She stepped between Hart’s splayed thighs. The welcoming heat coming off of his body was like a furnace. She wasn’t going to roll her eyes at him and walk away like the others often did. She was going to do what she suspected no one had ever done before - call him out on his shit. She leaned in, her nose almost touching his.

“You’re a liar and a poor one at that. Feel free to drown yourself in Jack’s booze, Captain, but you will not be drowning yourself in me. Not now. Not ever. You want to have sex on this desk because it’s cheap and low, just like the way you feel now. I am not an affirmation of your self loathing nor am I a whip for the mortification of your flesh,” she said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “If you cannot live with the consequences of your choices, then do the honourable thing and fall onto that sword strapped to your hip. Is it a question of honour, Captain? Or is it a question of fear?” She saw his jaw shift. She turned and as she walked away, she said, “Either way. You’ve chosen to live. So do it and do it properly or don’t do it at all.”


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the fact Jack had told everyone to come in late, everyone had come in early. After only a few hours of sleep, the entire team was back in the Hub, combing CCTV footage from the area surrounding the Capitol Shopping Centre. Jack admired their dedication. Even Hart himself, who looked to be nursing a bit of a hangover, was at his workstation. He’d said he’d seen the kids run off down Station Terrace and then Newport Road. Fish had found them on a few cameras showing them heading east. His eyes burned a bit from fatigue. He lifted his head as Gwen shouted across the Hub. 

"Jack? I just got a report from the local police. A student down at the university says he was jumped and mugged by four men dressed in black on his way to class this morning. They took his rucksack. His wallet, mobile and laptop were inside.” 

“Not just a normal mugging?” Jack asked, walking across the Hub. 

“No, the student kept telling the constables one of the men had horns,” Gwen supplied. 

“That’s them,” Jack said. He turned to his technician, “Fish?” 

Fish was already a few steps ahead of Jack. While Gwen was telling Jack about the new lead, she’d already sent information to his workstation. It didn't take Fish more than a few seconds to find it, he had been combing through the cameras around the university already. 

"I've got it here, Jack," Fish said as he brought up the correct camera. 

Jack and Gwen both stood behind him as he played the footage. The unsuspecting student was walking down the street when the four men descended upon him, blitzing him and tearing his rucksack off of him. They all took off in separate directions. 

"How much did they get, Gwen?" Jack asked. 

"The kid had a smartphone - the service’s already been turned off - a laptop and about twenty quid," Gwen replied.

Ianto walked out of Jack’s office, his mobile in his hand. He looked up at Jack with concern and said, “Sir? The Tesco Express on City road just reported a robbery. Three armed men in black. They took whatever food and drink they could carry." 

Hart raised an eyebrow and said, “They’re escalating fast.” 

"Okay, Gwen? Will? You two head out there and see if there's anything useful for us. Fish keep looking," Jack said. 

"Right, Jack," Fish said. 

He turned back to his workstation as the two women departed. He continued to work, losing himself in the endless array of video - mostly of people walking about. It was nearly lunch and Gwen and Miranda hadn't returned from the crime scene. Fish's eyes were starting to burn from staring at his computer screen for so long. He stretched his arms up over his head, a few loud cracks and pops coming from his back. _Christ, I'm getting old…_  

He stood up and walked towards the Hub kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Without paying attention, he took the pot off the warmer and began to pour as he yawned deeply with his eyes shut. The pot was empty. He let out a small groan. He craned his neck looking around for Ianto and found him coming out of Jack's office. He felt a bit of deja vu. 

"Hey, Ianto? Do you mind putting on a pot?" Fish asked, holding the empty pot aloft. 

"Sure, Fish," Ianto said, straightening his tie. He checked his watch. “Weren't you to meeting Henry for lunch?"

"FUCK!" Fish said as he looked at his own watch. He’d meant to cancel but he’d forgotten. He picked up his mobile and sent a frantic text. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Ianto said as he fixed a fresh pot of coffee. 

“He never does,” Fish said with a sad smile. His mobile beeped with Henry’s response. Fish let out a small laugh. “Looks like I’m out of the dog house, mate. Henry forgot too. He’s still at his studio.” 

Ianto laughed. “Is he still going to London?” 

Fish nodded and grimaced. “I bloody hate it when he goes there.” 

“Could be worse, mate,” Ianto said, seriously. “It could be Paris.” 

“Point,” Fish conceded. He was always nervous when Henry travelled to a major city but Paris seemed to be the immortal capital of the world. He waved at the coffee pot, and since he wasn’t having lunch with his boyfriend, he decided to return to his work. “Let me know when that’s done?”

“I’ll bring it over to you,” Ianto said, smiling brightly. 

“Thanks, Ianto,” Fish said as he walked away. 

The moment Fish turned and was a safe distance away, Ianto’s smile immediately vanished. He sighed deeply. He put his hands flat on the kitchen worktop and leaned over heavily. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this. 

A few weeks after he and Jack had returned from their honeymoon, an artefact had dropped out of the rift. It had sucked Ianto and the rest of the team into a pocket universe, changing their lives temporarily. Only Ianto retained any memory of the experience. It was a trauma he was still dealing with. This alien artefact had yanked on a thread in his life and unravelled its tapestry, leaving a tangled mess in its wake. Ianto had done a lot of things in that pocket universe that he hadn’t been proud of and now that he was back he was still doing things that made him ashamed.  

The pocket universe was where Ianto had learned about the existence of Fish’s son, David. A child Fish didn’t know existed. The very first thing Ianto had done once everything had gone back to normal was to look up David, praying that he was some construct of the artefact. It didn’t take much research to find that Olivia Porter, Fish’s ex-fiancée, had given birth to a son nearly ten years ago… no father was listed on the birth certificate. His name was David Joseph Porter. Ianto’s heart had sank. David was real. 

Before everything had gone back to normal, Fish had begged Ianto not to let him forget David but Ianto had yet to say a single word to his friend. He struggled, every day, to look at Fish, to smile and act normal but it was tearing him up. Inside, the rats had returned to his stomach. He felt the betrayal in his bones. He understood, finally and completely, the burden Miranda had taken on when she’d decided to keep his immortality from him. Keeping this secret from Fish was tearing Ianto apart but he had absolutely no idea how to tell him. He kept telling himself, over and over again, that it had been Fish’s wish to not forget his son. He told himself, over and over again, that if he were in Fish’s place, he would want to be told as well. But, still, he kept silent. 

Under the shame of keeping the secret from Fish, there was a small vein of jealousy that made the guilt so much worse. As an immortal of the Game, Ianto was incapable of fathering children but he had, once, wanted some of his own. He wondered if that was something that becoming immortal had taken away from him or if he’d always been sterile. He suspected it was the latter. It was a loss he hadn’t quite mourned properly. 

The beep of the coffee pot brought him out of his shallow pool of self pity. He fixed the coffee to Fish’s taste with plenty of cream and a dash of sugar. He put the mug onto his tray and walked up behind the Australian.  

“Here you go, Fish,” Ianto said, setting down the mug. 

“Thanks, Ianto,” Fish said without looking up. Just as he lifted the mug to his lips, Miranda emerged from the hallway that led to the Hub garage. “Where’s Gwen?” 

“Having a bit of a chat with Andy. She’ll be round soon,” Miranda said. She smiled at Fish’s mug. “Oh, Ifan, is that a fresh pot?” 

“Yes, I’ll get you some,” he said with a strained smile. It was a point of pride for him that the only coffee Miranda enjoyed was his. He went about ordering the team lunch. Gwen hadn’t arrived in time to eat and after everyone was fed, she still hadn’t returned. The rest of them continued about their jobs. Miranda went to tend to their prisoner’s wound. Ianto, Fish and Hart were both combing CCTV footage. After finishing a poorly timed phone call with some politician, Jack came up behind Fish and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Have we got anything yet, Fish?”

"Nothing yet, Jack. I'm nearly up to real time," Fish said, pointing at the time index. 

Jack peered down at the screen and Hart tapped him on the shoulder. The two former Time Agents started to speak in low whispers. It was in a language Fish couldn't understand or identify. They’d done that quite a bit since Hart’s arrival. Fish assumed they were speaking whatever language they used in the fifty first century. Henry and Miranda often did the same thing  though the language they used was from the past, not the future. Fish found the whole thing a bit rude. It was rude enough to chatter on amongst themselves in a language no one else understood but the whispering made it even more so. The two former Time Agents moved to Hart’s own workstation, watching the CCTV footage.  

  "Jack, look, this was twenty minutes ago!" Hart said loudly over his shoulder pointing at the screen. He tilted his head and squinted at the display. “Albany Road? They could still be around here.” 

Ianto came up behind Jack with the other man’s greatcoat in his hands. 

"I just got off the phone with Gwen, sir. There's been a robbery reported with shots fired at a pawn shop on Albany road. Four armed and masked men in black. Possible fatalities. She's on her way to the scene now.” 

Hart and Jack shared a look of alarm. 

"The Linearists never killed, Jack. They carefully planned their vandalism acts to avoid harming anyone," Hart said with a shake of his head. 

“Grab Will, meet me at the SUV,” Jack ordered. 

Hart nodded and jogged towards the autopsy bay. Jack allowed Ianto to help him into his coat. Just as Ianto was smoothing the fabric over Jack's shoulders, Jack said, at first to himself, "What’s going on here? This makes no sense… Fish? Stay here with Ianto and coordinate for us."

He craned his neck towards Hart and Miranda as they shot up the autopsy bay stairs. "Let's go you two!" 

The three of them walked quickly down the hallway towards the Hub garage and Jack drove through the streets of Cardiff at his usual insane pace. Jack parked outside of the police perimeter. They got out of the SUV and approached the tape line. Jack was scanning the area looking for Gwen. She was talking to several witnesses. He caught her eye and nodded for her to continue with what she was doing. 

"Since when does Torchwood investigate armed robbery, Harkness?" Kathy Swanson asked as she turned towards them. She crossed her arms over her puffed out chest. 

"Oh, you know me, Detective Inspector. I like to keep up with the local knowledge," Jack said, flashing her his thousand watt smile.

“It’s Detective _Chief_ Inspector thank you very much. And there's nothing here for you, Captain," Swanson said. 

"Well, we'll be the judge of that," Jack said. He yanked the police tape upwards, without invitation, so that Hart and Miranda could duck underneath it. He ignored the scathing look Swanson gave them. Jack and Hart moved off towards the shop and Miranda to the coroner's van. 

Swanson objected hotly, “If you lot contaminate my crime scene-"

"Relax, Detective _Chief_ Inspector," Jack interrupted, holding up his hand. "We got this."

Jack shut the shop door and turned to Hart who was leaning over the counter looking around. He pointed up at the camera. "I'll see what I can do with that footage, Jack."

Jack moved off, looking over the rest of the shop. The door opened and Miranda stepped in. 

"The clerk died from three gun shot wounds. Two center of mass and one between the eyes, execution style," she said. She walked over to Hart, stepping around the blood on the floor. 

"That makes even less sense, Jack," Hart said. He waved around at the bloody room. “Most of those fucking kids couldn't even shoot a gun much less aim one."

"Looking into someone’s eyes when you pull the trigger takes a certain sort, Jack," Miranda pointed out. 

Jack nodded. "What about the other customer? The one who was already in here?"

"He's on his way to University Hospital. He was shot in the same way. I'm amazed he's even alive. I don't expect him to make it to the A&E. He'll likely die en route, if he hasn't expired already." 

"I have the video, you two," Hart called out from behind the counter. He was tapping on his wrist strap and whispering under his breath, “Antiquated rubbish… might as well be made of stone…” 

Miranda and Jack moved to stand behind him as Hart played the footage. The three of them watched as the men arrived simultaneously. One queued while the other three moved off to stand in different parts of the small shop. As soon as the clerk went to examine the laptop and mobile, all four of them drew their weapons. The clerk and customer were forced to kneel with their ankles crossed. They were shot at point blank range without hesitation. Once the two men were down, the black clad time travelers emptied the till and fled. Miranda raised her eyebrow at the way the men had conducted the robbery and execution. It was almost military in its precision.

"Download that, John and wipe it. I don't want Cardiff's finest finding it," Jack said. He tapped his own wrist strap. “Send a copy of it on to Fish. I want him on it soon as possible.” 

"This is all wrong, Jack," Hart said as he tapped at his wrist strap. “Why rob this place for the money?” 

Jack shook his head. “They know they’re stranded. They need to resupply.” 

Hart shook his head. “They're moving with trained precision. They're a cohesive unit. Forget that this doesn’t fit the Linearist M.O. Why kill the clerk and the customer? It doesn't make any sense. They’re drawing attention to themselves. They didn't kill anyone at the Tesco.” 

Miranda leaned forward to tap at the screen. Hart got a good solid whiff of her perfume and backed away from the alluring scent of jasmine and woodsmoke. She said, "These aren't university kids. These people are well trained; military or militia. And they meant to land in this time, here."

"What makes you say that, Will?" Jack asked. 

"Can you back that up, Captain?” she asked Hart. She repeated, “Captain?”

“What? Oh sorry,” he said, distracted. 

She tapped the screen once he’d backed it up to the moment the black masked man opened the till. “They entered the shop after the other customer had finished his transaction. They didn't see the clerk open the till or even use it. They didn't steal money from the Tesco Express, they just grabbed some food and ran. How would they know what the till was for? How would they understand the concept of paper money?" 

"If they’re Linearists, they’re educated. They’ll have a basic grasp of economic history but she’s got a point about the till, Jack. History’s taught in broad strokes. You don’t get the fine detail,” Hart said. He tapped the screen. “He didn't know how to work it, but he knew to hit buttons on it and he knew that was where the money would be stored. They must’ve done some research for that.” 

"The kid back at the Hub is a Linearist," Jack said. "He's admitted to it. He fits the profile." 

"A patsy?" Miranda said. "Someone to hide their true objectives?"

"This isn't good. If they’re here under the cover of a Linearist threat, it could mean anything. They might not be here by accident. Their real mission is going to be nearly impossible to figure out," Jack said. He scrubbed at his face. "We need to step this up. There's nothing more for us here. Do we need those bodies for the bullets?"

"Not necessary, Jack. The ballistics is going to show that they're unusual bullets, nothing more," she said. "The locals will assume they're just custom work.” 

“It’s actually better for us,” Hart pointed out. “They’ll be chasing their tails looking for who made them. It’ll keep them occupied.”  

"Let's get back to the Hub, I want to talk to our friend again," Jack said. 


	11. Chapter 11

Miranda was leaning against the observation window of the interrogation room watching an exercise in futility. Jack and Hart were both in the room and the kid was terrified. They were wasting their time. _This child knows nothing._ Jack leaned in, banging his fist on the desk and the kid jumped. Hart glanced up at the window, tossing her a wink. She gave him a small smile and swore that, maybe, for a moment, a light blush crossed his cheeks. _Probably the lighting…_

"Has he done the dramatic 'just us, in this room, as long as it takes' bit yet?" Ianto asked handing her a cup of coffee.

"Not yet.” 

"Pity… Shivers down my spine that," Ianto said with a wry smile. 

Miranda moved away from the window. She put the mug down on Jack’s desk and plopped into the chair. 

"You don't want to watch?" Ianto asked, pointing at the window. 

"A fool's errand, Ifan. That boy knows nothing," Miranda said. She put her feet up onto the desk, crossing them at the ankles. 

"You're so sure?" Ianto asked. He sat in the chair opposite, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

"Yes," Miranda said. She picked up the kinetic toy from Jack's desk and then tapped her ear piece. "Gwen? Where are we?”

"Nothing yet. I'm working on some geographic profiling to see if we can't narrow the search. I'll keep you updated," Gwen replied. Her voice sounded a bit distant, she was concentrating on something other than what Miranda was asking her. 

"Thanks, Gwen. Fish? Where are we with the CCTV?” Miranda asked.

"I hit a dead end, Evie. I lost them on the cameras after the pawn shop robbery but I'm using what little I do have to help Gwen with the geographic profile.” 

Miranda sighed. They both sounded exhausted. Her own eyes were burning. "Got it, thanks you two. I'll have Ifan bring you both some coffee."

Ianto nodded and pushed himself off the desk. "I'll be ordering dinner shortly. Anything you fancy?"

“No pizza," Miranda said with a smile. 

"Right," he said as he left the room to take coffee to Gwen and Fish. 

It only took Ianto a few minutes to make the coffee. He fixed it to their preferences and arranged the mugs on his tray. Gwen was standing in front of a large map. Fish was flipping through CCTV footage as Gwen called out locations to him.

“I’m about to order some dinner. Anything either of you fancy?” he asked. He put the mug down next to Fish. He put the other mug into Gwen’s outstretched hand. 

“Not pizza again, mate,” Fish said, accepting the mug gratefully. 

Ianto smiled. “Mandy said the same. What are you two doing?” 

"Geographic profile," Gwen said. Torchwood had a multitude of technologies at its disposal but for some things, Gwen preferred the old fashioned way. She tapped the paper map in front of her, indicating points in turn. Each one was surrounded by a drawn circle. Ianto thought it looked like some sort of bizarre Venn diagram. "This is where the initial spike was. This is where they mugged the university student. This is the Tesco Express and this… is the pawn shop." 

Ianto leaned over her shoulder and said, "Huh… decent sized area."

"Not really. Everything is within walking distance," Gwen said. "It's their comfort zone. They're aliens. They're in a strange place, in a strange time. They're stranded here. They won't understand the scope of our society. They'll want to stick to a small area that they can easily cover on foot. They'll worry about the basics first - food, water, shelter. They got the first two out the way at the Tesco Express. We’re focusing on the third… Fish? Are you still looking at the cameras on Salisbury Road?"

"Yeah, nothing so far," Fish said. 

"Try City Road, it's a bigger street," Gwen said. "They don't have access to a vehicle. They won’t want to waste what little cash they have for public transportation and they won't know how to use the system anyway. Where ever they are has to be in this area." 

To Ianto, it sounded like she was mostly speaking to herself. Gwen continued, "They won't want to keep breaking into places, it'll attract attention. So where ever they are, it's probably somewhere deserted… an empty shop… something… Fish? Get the angles that have clearly abandoned shops in them. Anything boarded up or empty. Maybe something that doesn't have too many windows." 

"Right, Gwen," Fish said, barely looking up as he took the mug and sipped it. "Cheers, mate."

"What's that?" Ianto asked, curious. Fish had about half a dozen camera angles on his screen, quickly flashing through. 

“It’s an experimental program. Right now, we don’t have anything for facial recognition but a person’s face isn’t the only thing that’s distinctive about them,” Fish said. He waved at Gwen and then Ianto. “The way you walk. How you move. The rhythm to your gait and your step. The angle you hold your arms. Sometimes all that’s unique to an individual when you add it all up. This program picks up on those little movements and compiles them into a movement profile. It’s not as accurate as the facial recognition and the program is still pretty basic, but this is the perfect time to use it.” 

“That’s fantastic, Fish," Ianto said, leaning in. He vaguely remembered Tosh working on something like this. 

“I wish I could take credit, but the idea’s not mine,” Fish said.

He’d spent his years at Torchwood in awe of the genius that was Toshiko Sato. He had made his own changes when he'd joined Torchwood but all his work was built upon her foundation and he knew he could never match her technical genius. Fish was often profoundly sad that he’d never met her. He had broken down in tears one night when he'd accidentally come across a backup of Tosh's farewell recording. Two days later he had made his own and used Tosh's program to link the video to his personnel file. When his file was closed, the video would play the same as hers had. The video had given a face to the name that had built so much of Torchwood’s technologies and that was when an idea was born. 

Nervously, he tapped an icon on the screen. “Actually, I’ve a bit of a confession, mate. You see, this program is all Tosh.” 

The smiling face of Toshiko Sato filled his screen. She lifted her hand and waved. Fish had been toying with the idea of an artificial intelligence interface for the Torchwood mainframe ever since he’d come across Tosh’s notes about it. She’d created a basic outline, built upon an alien system that had fallen through the rift. Fish had gladly taken on the challenge. It had taken him years to build the program up to the point that it would function. Once he’d come across Tosh’s video, he realised how he could pay proper homage to his predecessor. He used Tosh’s image for the interface. 

“You are correct, Doctor Fischer,” she said formally. Then she turned and looked at Ianto. She waved and said, brightly, “Hi, Ianto!” 

Ianto was too surprised to say anything. Gwen, upon hearing the sound of Tosh’s voice, stopped what she was doing and turned. The marker in her hand fell to the floor and rolled away. 

Fish cleared his throat. Maybe this had been a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m sorry, mate. I used Tosh to-“

“I am Toshiko Sato, version five point four. Interpersonal interface for the Torchwood mainframe,” she interrupted and then glared at him. “I can speak for myself you know.” 

Ianto felt a shiver go up his spine. Gwen stared at the screen, open mouthed and whispered, “Oh my God… Tosh…” 

“I created a program that combed through all the old CCTV security footage. It picked up everything… her face, her voice, her mannerisms,” Fish said, apologising. “I’m sorry, mate. I shouldn’t have done.” 

Ianto swallowed, his eyes prickling with tears. “She would’ve been embarrassed but you would’ve impressed the hell out of her, Fish…”  

“Does Jack know about this?” Gwen asked. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Fish said. “I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of her.” 

“No!” Gwen and Ianto both shouted simultaneously. 

“No! Don’t!” Ianto said, grabbing Fish’s arm. “I’m not saying she wouldn’t have wanted it. I mean, she would’ve been a bit embarrassed but… it just seems…”

“Right somehow,” Gwen finished. 

“I didn’t mean to offend. I did it in her honour. Everything here is hers. I just built on her foundation.” Fish explained, “She’s a part of this place, forever. I just wanted to give a face to that.” 

“Ianto’s right,” Gwen said, sniffling. “You two would’ve been quite the pair.” 

Ianto felt his eyes water. He said, softly, “I’m so sorry, Tosh.” 

“It’s okay. It really is,” she said, giving him a smile. She pushed her glasses up on her face. “Fish just needs to figure out a way for me to be able to drink your coffee and I’ll be set for eternity.” 

Fish threw his hands up. He’d just modified the program yesterday to remove the annoying nickname. “Bugger all! She’s my bloody program and I can’t get her to stop calling me that!” 

Ianto and Gwen laughed through the tears in his eyes.

“Now, enough of that. Look, we can catch up another…” Tosh wagged her finger at them but trailed off. Her stern smile vanished and was replaced with alarm. “Incoming Internet based alert… Torchwood hashtag and keyword parameters detected amongst social media uploads… Filtering… Cathays Park. Displaying relevant information.” 

Images, videos and social media windows flooded Fish’s screen. There were smoke bombs going off at Cathays Park. People were running and shouting. There was also several nine, nine, nine calls playing simultaneously. 

“Didn’t that kid say he was here to drop some smoke bombs?” Gwen asked, alarmed. 

“Yes, I’ll fetch the others, get the SUV warmed up,” Ianto said. Before he’d even finished his sentence, Gwen was on her feet and so was Fish. 

Tosh was still speaking. “Sat nav information transferred to the SUV.” The mechanical tone vanished and she craned her neck on the screen and called after Ianto, “You know, if you installed one of those remote starters, I could warm it up for you!” 

“I’ll put it on my to do list,” Ianto shouted back, forgetting a bit that he was speaking to a computer. 

When he got through the office door, he saw Miranda was back at the interrogation window. Once she saw the look on Ianto’s face, she rapped her knuckles on the glass. 

“Ifan?” 

“There’s been an incident at Cathays Park. Fish and Gwen are warming up the SUV,” Ianto said. He took Jack’s coat from its hanger. “Smoke bombs have gone off…”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence. Miranda sped past him, picking up her sword from Jack’s desk as she went. “Tell them to hurry.” 

Ianto took Jack’s gun out of his desk and set it down. He stood there with the coat, waiting. The minute Jack saw Ianto standing there with the coat, he knew something was wrong. He turned and allowed Ianto to slide the coat up onto his shoulders. As he adjusted the sleeves, he asked, “What’s happened?

“There’s a disturbance in Cathays Park, sir. Several smoke bombs have gone off.” Ianto didn’t wait. He was putting on his own coat as he walked towards the Hub garage with Jack and Hart on his heels. 

“This doesn’t make any sense, Jack. They’re killing _and_ vandalising?” Hart said, shaking his head. 

“It could be a fringe group,” Jack said, just as perplexed. He ran out of his office after Ianto.

“I don’t remember any of this,” Hart muttered as he followed them.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack hopped the kerb on City Hall road and drove the SUV across the grass towards the War Memorial. The scene in the park was bedlam. Smoke bombs had been detonated all over the park and the air was thick with the smoke and confusion. Jack jammed his foot onto the brakes and the SUV skidded to a halt, leaving deep gouges in the grass despite the frozen temperatures. 

The entire Torchwood team poured out of the SUV, circling the memorial with their guns raised. The War Memorial had been defaced, the pillars splattered with paint and the columns draped with coloured streamers. Across the top, above the etched Welsh, someone had painted the words ‘blaidd drwg’. Jack stood there for a few moments staring at the words, transfixed and ashen. Ianto shook his shoulder and he came back to the present. The whole team scanned through the chaos but there was no sign of the perpetrators. Local police were also just arriving on the scene, trying to clear the park. Even though it was the winter, there were still people. They were running and shouting, panicked. Suddenly, shots rang out and the screaming intensified. Some froze, all trying to identify where the noise had come from. Some fell to the ground, ducking for cover, as more shots flew through the air. They didn’t seem to be aimed at anyone, just a tactic to scare and cause chaos. The immortal members of the team didn’t care. They scattered, fanning out to protect as many civilians as they could. The mortal team members took cover, searching for the source of the shots. It didn’t take them long to locate the black clad terrorists. There were four, using the trees for cover as they shot wildly at the running civilians. 

Hart managed to take the first one down with a head shot. Ianto was the second. After securing one of the civilians behind a pillar, he winged one of them and landed another shot center of mass. One of them broke off and ran straight for the front of the government building. Gwen ran forward, firing her weapon only once. She also managed a head shot. He fell forward at the base of the stairs, a metal sphere rolling out of his hand. 

“GRENADE!” she shouted. She hesitated only long enough to ensure no one was in the blast radius. Gwen turned and ran as fast as she could. She heard and felt the grenade go off. She was well out of the blast radius but the shockwave knocked her to the grass. The wave of heat from the fireball washed over her and she slammed her eyes shut. 

In the confusion following the explosion, the fourth terrorist managed to slowly make his way down the park. He was walking calmly, slowly and that was what set him apart from the others frantically fleeing for their lives. Jack had taken cover behind a tree, facing opposite from the explosion and that was when he saw him. He wanted to pursue but Miranda was standing closer. The immortal woman was standing, staring at the explosion and looking around for anyone who was injured. Jack whistled and she looked up and turned in the direction he was pointing. Once Miranda saw the black clad man, she sprinted. Hart saw her whiz past him and followed to help. 

The terrorist had managed to get more than halfway down the park, slipping through the chaos. He had a significant lead. Miranda was running as fast as she could but he’d managed to get across the street, past the police. He was getting away. He’d slipped between some of the buildings and was crossing a car park. He was walking, keeping his head down so he didn’t notice Miranda and Hart behind him. 

Hart wasn’t taking any chances. He drew his gun and fired. The bullet landed in the shoulder, probably just above the tactical vest. The black clad man fell face first onto the car park pavement. Miranda was the first to reach him. He was crying out in pain and holding the wound. It was trickling green blood. She rolled her eyes at the display. Just as she was bending down to restrain him, Hart appeared. 

“This is an excellent shot, Captain,” she said. 

“Careful, Dollface, people might get the wrong idea, you paying me compliments,” he said with a playful smile. He was a bit out of breath from his run and hugging his chest. “Bloody cold.” 

“Breath through your nose. It will warm the air before it gets to your lungs,” she said, turning their prisoner over. 

The painful display had been a feign. Their perpetrator sat up with a knife in his hand. His arm arced around, burying that knife hilt deep in Miranda’s side. She screamed, falling backwards, blood spattering her lips. Hart’s gun was still in his hands. He fired. The bullet went straight through the man’s throat. He too fell backwards, green blood spurting from the wound as he died. Hart ignored him, kneeling at Miranda’s side immediately.

She grabbed for the hilt and Hart stopped her. “Woah! Don’t do that, Dollface! It’ll be okay! Just stay with me!” 

Hart fumbled for the comm unit he never wore. He hated all this antiquated garbage Torchwood used. He couldn’t manage to get it into his ear. He threw it, frustrated. “Fuck this!” 

He opened his wrist strap and tapped. “JACK! She’s hurt bad! Hurry!”

Miranda made another attempt to grab at the knife and Hart tried to stop her. “No, no, no! Don’t do that, Dollface! Leave it!” 

She coughed and more blood coming up. It sprayed into the air, landing on her face and the ground around her. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. She was drowning in her own blood. Hart had no idea that Miranda was immortal and that she was trying to remove the knife to speed her demise. All he knew was that it was the worst thing she could possibly do. He thought she was incoherent, blindly grasping at what she felt was a source of pain. He hauled her up into his lap. Grabbing her wrists, he crisscrossed her arms over her chest, holding her close. He had no way of helping her. He’d have to wait for the others. 

“John…” Her eyes started to slide closed. 

“Dollface! Hey! Hey, don’t do that! Stay with me!” he shouted at her, shaking her a bit. She opened her eyes. “That’s it. Open those honey sweet eyes for me.”

He knew she didn’t die here. Everything that had brought him here - her love and her passion - hadn’t happened yet. She survived this. He knew it. He just needed to be patient. The others would come. They’d get her to hospital. She’d be fine. 

“John…” she tried to say more but she coughed, spraying blood again. She had to tell him the truth. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. He said, “You’re going to be fine. Right as rain, I promise. Help’s on the way. Hold on, love. It’s just a scratch…” 

“Liar…” she accused with a weak smile. 

“Don’t try and talk…” he said, blinking back tears. He shouldn’t have underestimated the terrorist. Miranda’s eyes began to close again and Hart shook her. “Hey! Hey, Dollface! DOLLFACE! Stay with me!” 

Once she’d opened her eyes again, Hart looked up and saw the others. They weren’t running. They were walking! What was wrong with them? She was dying! He let go of her wrist and waved, frantically. “HERE! WE’RE HERE!” 

The distraction was all Miranda needed. She seized the knife and yanked it from her side. 

“NO! NO!” Hart grabbed for the wound, trying to staunch the gush of the blood. He saw her eyes beginning to close again. “You stubborn bitch! Open your eyes!” 

She looked up at him. 

“You were right. I’ve never said anything really honest but how can I lie to a dying woman?” He said, speaking as fast as he could. It wasn’t fast enough. Her eyes slid closed and her head lolled to the side. He shook her. This time she didn’t answer. “Dollface?!” 

It was impossible that she died here. Impossible. The doubt crept up over his shoulder, dousing his heart in ice. He felt a lump form in his throat as her whole body relaxed. He held onto her and said, very quietly, “You wanted to know why I stayed? The truth is this Torchwood thing… it makes me want to be a better man… to atone… and… and so do you.” 

He should have kept that ridiculously antiquated mobile telephone that Ianto had given him. He would’ve been able to summon an ambulance. He chastised himself for the thought. He hadn’t bothered with CPR either. Neither would have mattered. There was no saving her. The tip of the knife had likely pierced her heart. He was amazed she’d lived as long as she had. _It isn’t supposed to be this way…_ he thought as he let his fingers run down her cheek. He remembered when he first saw her. The image of her tear streaked face filled with so much love and longing appeared in his mind’s eye. He’d dared to hope for that look again without the grief marring the love’s purity. He gently kissed her cooling cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. Now that hope was gone and it had wounded him as deeply as any weapon could. The others gathered around them. He cradled her gently for a moment and then lowered her to the icy pavement. He took off his Napoleonic jacket and draped it over her face. 

Hart looked up. “I tried… I couldn’t… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” 

Angry and distraught, he turned and stormed off. She’d managed to creep under his skin. His mind didn’t even try to think about how that was possible. Now she was gone. They all stared at his retreating back, looking guilty; even Gwen. Jack said something in Gwen’s ear and then Fish and then Ianto. Gwen went off to try hold back the local police and collect a body bag from the SUV. Fish and Ianto walked towards Hart. Fish caught up to him first. He was leaning on the bonnet of a random car. Fish put a hand on his arm. 

“John… Listen, mate, I know this is hard to hear right now-“

“Joe, if you’re going to tell me some twenty first century bollocks about her being in a better place _you can fucking stow it_ ,” Hart barked. He shook his head. He slammed his fists down onto the bonnet of the car, denting it. He turned and shoved Fish. Ianto caught him. “It’s a cosmic joke. All of it!” 

Hart turned and his fist flew straight into the window of the car, shattering it. How? How could she die here? He’d seen a completely different future!

“John, that’s not it-” 

“Nothing means anything,” he said, punching his fists down on the bonnet again. “She was a beautiful accident of chemicals and evolution. A radiant creature your fucking God created just to live and die on this useless ball of rock!” 

Fish hissed, “She’s immortal, John.” 

“All that eternal soul bollocks-”

“That’s not what I mean!” Fish said, shaking him. “She can’t die, mate.” 

Hart backed away from the car, his mouth open. “What?” 

“She’s immortal like Jack. She’s going to heal and revive. She’ll come back!” 

Hart looked at Miranda’s body covered with his coat and then at Fish and then at Jack and Ianto. Even Gwen was casting nervous backward looks at the former Time Agent as she walked back towards the park. He could see the guilt on all their faces. He looked from the body to Fish and back again. Then his eyes settled on Jack. The anger at Miranda’s ‘death’ shifted focus. He ran at Jack, shoving him hard. He shouted at Jack in that incomprehensible language. The two of them yelled back and forth, shoving at each other. Finally Hart recoiled back and balled up his fist. Fish grabbed his arm, protecting Jack from the blow. Ianto grabbed him by the shoulders. The two of them dragged him back as he continued to yell at Jack. No one needed to understand what they were saying to know Hart was pissed. He shoved off Ianto and Fish and hissed something at Jack. 

“She didn’t want you to know,” Jack said, in English. 

Hart came at him again, shoving him. He gave Hart one last shove and Ianto grabbed him. He dug a finger into a pressure point by Hart’s elbow. The pain got the former Time Agent’s attention. 

“We need to get her out of sight,” Ianto hissed into his ear. 

“Go work the scene. I’ll stay with her. That’s an order,” Jack said. 

“C’mon, mate. She’ll be fine in an hour, probably less,” Fish said, gently. 

Hart shoved off Ianto’s grip. He bent down for his coat but thought better of it. Despite the cold, he walked back towards the park in only his stained t-shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

It took nearly half the night for Torchwood to clear the scene. They returned to the Hub with samples of the smoke devices, the streamers and paint, and the terrorists’ bodies. Fish set to analyzing everything while Gwen and Ianto worked tirelessly on locating the rest of the group. Jack disappeared into his office with John Hart. He opened his personal safe and dropped some files onto his desk. 

“Read those,” he said, without turning around. 

Hart opened his vortex manipulator and started to tap. 

“You know, you should learn to read English better,” Jack said, impatient. 

“I’ve learned to speak it haven’t I?” Hart snapped. He tapped the pages. “This sort of thing takes a while you know.” 

Jack did know. It had taken him years to learn English when he’d first landed. Everyone always teased him for not bothering with Welsh but English had been hard enough. People in his time relied on translators the same way people these days relied on calculators. Very few people bothered actually learning another language. He sat patiently waiting for Hart to finish reading the display on his vortex manipulator. 

A strange look crept over Hart’s face and when he finally closed the strap he couldn’t believe what he’d just learned. A whole segment of the population that was immortal? Some daft Game with combat to the death? The universe is big and vast and complicated and ridiculous. Sometimes rare and impossible things happened, so he wasn’t surprised the Game existed. Hart was more surprised that no one had ever found out about it. A secret that big kept for that long? Impossible. But he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes. Miranda had died in his arms and now she was in the autopsy bay performing a post-mortem. She should be the one laying on that fucking table not the one working at it! 

“How the fuck has no one found out about this?” Hart asked. He shoved the papers back into Jack’s direction. “Fucking Agency knew everything about everything.” 

“Dunno,” Jack said, twisted in his chair a bit. “I have some theories but nothing I know for sure. You know how dangerous questions can be.”

Hart at least understood that. When you were in the past and tried to figure out how to connect the dots to your own time, you could get yourself into trouble. Hart stood up. He leaned his arm up against the window frame above his head. He bent forward, looking down over the main Hub and shoved his other hand in his pocket. 

“It’s harder than I thought it’d be,” Hart said. He tapped the glass with his finger. “The slow road… living in the past…” 

“You expected it to be easy?” Jack asked. He picked up the files and locked them back away in his safe. 

“The backwards ideas. The fear. The prejudice. All this antiquated garbage they think is ‘technology’… I can handle all that. Them?” Hart used, nodding at the main Hub. He used his arm to push off from the window and he shoved both hands in his pockets. “They’re legends.” 

“They’re just people,” Jack said, shrugging. He sat back down and starting on his paperwork. There was a rather large pile of things that needed his signature. As was his habit, Jack didn’t actually read most of it. He left that to Ianto and Miranda a lot of the time. The only thing he ever really read were the field reports. He picked up his pen and started signing his name.  

“He’s not what I expected,” Hart replied with a small smile. 

“Who?” he asked, not looking up. 

“Fischer. I like him. He’s a good bloke,” Hart said. He jerked his head towards the window. “That’s the hardest bit.”

“What? You think being his friend is hard? Think about how I felt when I hired him,” Jack bit back. His comm unit beeped and he tapped it. “Yeah, Yan?… Uhuh… Can’t-… but-… No, I wasn’t-… Okay… ‘Course… Give me two minutes.” 

“Got you wrapped around his little finger, that one does.” Hart let out a chuckle and Jack gave him a nasty look. He turned his voice serious and said, “He’s good for you.” 

“He is,” Jack admitted. He still didn’t look up, signing another few pieces of paper. 

“I’m sorry, you know. About… everything.” 

At that, he stopped. He didn’t put down the pen nor the paper in his hands, but he looked up at his former partner. “I know.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Would it stop you if I said no?” Jack responded with a slight glare. 

Hart let out another chuckle. He jerked his head towards the window. Again, he turned his voice serious and asked, “What happened with you and her?” 

“The same thing that happened with us,” Jack said. He tossed his pen onto the papers in front of him and leaned back in his chair. “We were too alike. We have the same faults.” 

Without another word, Hart got up and went to leave the room. He’d always thought that Jack was the better of them but he didn’t say so.

“Was it all bad? Those five years?” Jack asked. 

Hart turned his head, looking down at the bunker’s entrance. Miranda’s words echoed in his head. _Have you ever said an honest thing in your life that you didn’t try to back out of?_ He remembered the end of that five years, when the time loop had finally ended. He and Jack had just finished ‘celebrating.’ Jack had held him close and told him he loved him. Hart had taken the coward’s way out and pretended he’d been asleep. The very next day he’d requested a new partner and that had been that. 

He continued to stare down into the bunker as he said, “You convinced me that happily ever after is possible for someone like me. I’m glad you’ve found yours. Truly, I am.” 

Before Jack could answer, Hart left without another word. The moment he had stepped out of his office, Jack began fielding calls. Even though it was very late at night, local politicians and law enforcement were frantic. The fiasco at the park was a nightmare. There was no squashing the story. Ianto was doing his best, but for now as far as the media were concerned, it was an act of domestic vandalism. Torchwood had removed all evidence of aliens from the park. After several loud, blood pressure increasing phone calls, Jack stepped over to his team and asked, “Theories. Leads. Anything?” 

“I’ve nothing on the CCTV yet, Jack. I’ve got the AI looking for just about anything,” Fish said, tapping the screen. 

“Local police don’t have any leads,” Gwen said.

Jack heard Miranda walking up the autopsy steps behind him. “Will? Anything useful off the bodies?” 

Miranda shook her head. “Nothing pertinent to the case. They had the same gear as the kid downstairs just more of it.” 

Fish pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head. They were all so tired. 

“We regroup, people. Let’s all get some sleep,” Jack said, sighing. “Bright and early in the morning.” 

“Henry’s got a train to London,” Fish said, hesitantly. 

“It’s fine, Fish. Give Henry my love and I’ll see you when you can get here…” Jack’s voice trailed off. He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Tom’s in town isn’t he?” 

Fish nodded, wincing a bit at the mention of his lover’s adopted son. A slightly awkward silence descended between the two men. It seems that Fish was privy to some knowledge that Jack was not. It looked for a moment like Jack was going to say something to Fish but thought better of it. He turned away, his hand in Ianto’s. The two of them were muttering in low whispers. Ianto was looking at Hart every few sentences. The Welshman shook his head and went to go about taking care of the resident pets and putting the Hub into night mode. 

Miranda gave Gwen’s shoulder a squeeze before the former PC picked up her things and left. She whispered something in Fish’s ear and then turned towards the autopsy bay. She scarcely looked at Hart. Again, Jack had told everyone to get some rest but, like Ianto, Miranda still had things to do. To save Ianto the job, Miranda decided to clean up the autopsy bay herself. She put the bodies away. She left the instruments to soak. She fed Dewi. After eating a few feathers, the niffler ignored his meal. He was sitting on her desk chair, looking up at her. He blinked, tilting his head. The niffler’s digestion hadn’t been very good since the addition of a stranger to the Hub. 

“Do you want to come downstairs tonight?” she asked him.

He jumped off the chair and waddled over to her. He sniffed her ankle and laid down, resting his head on her shoe.  

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said with a tired smile. 

“Never seen one domesticated before,” Hart said, descending the stairs. His appearance startled Dewi. The niffler bolted from Miranda to his box under her desk with a howling noise. He put his hands in his pockets, slowly walking towards her. 

“I owe you an apology, Captain.” She didn’t turn around as she spoke. 

“No, you don’t. I understand why you didn’t want me to know… ripples in a pond.” He leaned against the autopsy table, crossing his legs at the ankles. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” she said, flatly. 

“Liar,” he said, teasing a bit. 

“I’m tired,” she replied, honestly. 

He could hear the double meaning. He said as he shifted his weight, “I never understood why your eyes were older than your face.” 

She didn’t answer him, just continued scrubbing at the instruments. “Is that a bad thing?” 

“Yes,” he said, quietly. “They wear you down; time and life.” 

“That they do,” she said, mostly to herself. She braced herself for the questions she knew were coming. It was always the same ones. People would ask how old she was or how she managed. They’d ask her about history or if she’d known anyone they’d learned about in history classes. 

But Hart didn’t ask her any of those questions. Instead, he cleared his throat, softly. He asked, as a kindred spirit, “What happened to you?” 

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, finally turning. She gripped the edge of the sink, the sudsy water running off her hands down the metal. Did this man have the temerity to ask about her first death? 

He didn’t flinch away from her tone. “To make you hate yourself…” _too…_  

There wasn’t a single bit of the psychotic hedonist on his face or in his voice. Once again she was face to face with the true man. He’d asked a direct question of honesty. It was something no one had ever asked her before. She swallowed.  

“Don’t presume to know me, Captain,” she snapped. 

“I know you better than you think.” Hart waved at the morgue stairs. “That was what needed to be done. We both knew it. We’re the same, you and I, Dollface. We do what needs to be done. We just don’t like living with it. You were wrong. It’s not about fear. It’s about atoning.” 

She turned, dumping the instruments and began to rinse them. His words hit close to a nerve. She’d said a few uncomfortable truths to the former Time Agent last night. _Turn about is fair play_ … 

“It’s not your fault,” he said, shrugging. “I get the feeling you’re old enough to know that sometimes things just happen.” He started to walk towards her. He took each step carefully, like approaching a cornered animal. “You’re a realist that life has turned into a predator. It’s not wrong to deny your nature.” 

“You are too familiar, Captain,” she said, angry. “You overstep.” 

“But I’m right,” he said, a bit self satisfied. He reached up, as if to run his fingers down her face. He remembered her previous warnings and curled back his fingers, pulling away. “You asked me why I stayed? Because I want to know how you did it. How did you beat back the dark. Is it because you’ve been doing it for the Twins know how long?” 

He was lying. They always say that hearing is the last sense to fade when you die. Miranda knew it was the truth. The whole world had gone dark and she couldn’t feel her body anymore, but she’d still heard Hart’s voice as if he was whispering down a long tunnel. He had feelings for her. It was completely mental that she returned them. The idea that she could feel something for this man was ludicrous… wasn’t it? 

“I learned that you can’t,” she admitted. “The darkness is always there. Light doesn’t destroy the darkness, it just makes it go away for a while. Unlike the darkness, light must be created.” 

“I love it when you get philosophical,” he said with a smile. 

“You asked.” 

“I did,” he replied. There was an uncomfortable look to his face before the true man vanished and the psychotic hedonist slipped back into place. “What do you say, Dollface? Let there be light?” 

“You men of the future…” She let out a scoff. “You know, I lived through the gluttony of Rome. I thought mankind couldn't become any more hedonistic. Then I met Jack. And now I've met you. You fifty first century men. The human race has become soft… decadent… My contemporaries would have filleted you alive.” 

She turned, checking him with her hip to move him away. She dumped the instruments onto a towel to dry. He narrowed her eyes at him. She’d judged him for his own posturing but she was just as bad. He might flout himself about while she used a stone cold tone and hollow looks but it was all the same. He wasn’t going to let her get away with the hypocrisy.  

Angry, he grabbed her arm as she passed him. “Don’t act like you’re better than I am, Dollface. I didn’t think I could find someone who hated themself as much as I did.” He squeezed her arm harder, giving her a shake. He narrowed his eyes and threw her own words back at her. “Then I met you.” He pulled her in, pushing his face into hers. “The difference between us is I don’t wallow in it. I don’t dress the ‘A’ up in lace and wear that scarlet letter like a badge of honour. Because it isn’t. _I use it_.” 

Miranda had no idea how this conversation had turned this way. She had no idea why she wasn’t removing Hart’s liver like she promised. Maybe it was because what he was saying was true. Maybe it was because of the way the blue of his eyes was like an ocean, swallowing her up as the moment stretched between them. 

“Night, Dollface.” He let go of her arm and backed away.

Miranda let out the breath she had no idea she was holding. As he walked away, she said, “Don’t call me that, Captain.” 

But they both knew her heart wasn’t in it.


	14. Chapter 14

Henry grabbed the handle by the car window. He snapped, “I believe you have been watching Captain Harkness drive for too long, Joe.”

“I don’t want you to miss your train,” Fish insisted, taking the corner faster than he should’ve. 

“You’re the one who requested I take the earlier departure so you could go into the Hub,” he said, annoyed. 

“I know how important it is for you to see Tom,” Fish said, swerving. 

“He’s not particularly interested in seeing me when he comes to Britain these days,” Henry said, equally annoyed. 

Shortly after Ianto and Jack’s wedding, Tom began making frequent short visits. At first, Tom had told his father and Fish that he was finally taking advantage of Henry’s long standing offer to pay for him to fly anytime to see him. Henry was, of course, overjoyed to have his son visit so often. In fact, he was now seeing more of Tom than he did when they’d lived on the same continent albeit on different coasts. The numerous short trips quickly became suspicious, especially when Tom stopped spending those visits in their guest room. It didn’t take Henry long to put two and two together… or rather one and one - Thomas Blount and Alice Carter. Henry had been quite wounded that his son had not only lied to him but had kept his happiness from him.

There’d been some shouting and some harsh words and even some tears but they’d worked it out. Henry still paid for Tom to fly to the UK and Tom spent as much time as he could with Henry and Fish whenever he came to Cardiff, but Alice was the main reason for his visits. It was mostly smoothed over but there were still frequent disagreements and some disappointment all around. Fish sometimes felt in the middle of it all, mediating between his boyfriend and his friend. 

Fish snickered. “Don’t be offended that he’s more interested in getting his leg over than seeing his father.” 

“Thank you for that image, Joe,” Henry said, annoyed. “I hope these distractions at work have taken Jack’s mind off of the same.” 

Fish quirked his mouth, remembering Jack’s annoyed look when he’d mentioned Henry’s trip. “He likes Tom. Certainly better than he liked Alice’s ex-husband. Tom’s good with Steven.” 

“Tom certainly hasn’t gotten that impression,” Henry said, surprised. 

“Do you think any father likes the idea of someone dating his daughter? No matter how nice the bloke is?” Fish asked.  

“Point,” Henry said. He heaved out a sigh. “I believe things have become quite serious. Tom is considering emigrating.” 

“Really?” Fish said, waiting for a light to change. “He’d be sacrificing his pension wouldn’t he?” 

“He’s able to take his own contribution with him,” Henry said, disappointed. “It would likely be enough for him to relocate and live without employment for a short time.” 

Since Henry would outlive his son, there was no possibility of his wealth passing to Tom. So, Henry considered his money to be Tom’s and was more than willing to give Tom any financial assistance he wanted. He may be more than happy to pay for Tom to fly back and forth to see Alice but Fish knew that it was a sore point for Tom. He was a responsible adult who disliked taking money or charity from anyone, especially his own father. He may be accepting the plane tickets but he would never allow Henry to support him after he moved even though Henry would be more than willing to do so. 

“I believe his frustration with recent police budget cuts has significantly influenced his decision,” Henry said. He shifted a bit. “He has not yet taken any steps but has asked, in passing, if Torchwood could influence the Border Agency.” 

Fish whistled, low. He had created Jack Harkness out of thin air for Ianto so that he and Jack could legally marry. A few taps on his keyboard is all that it would take to make Tom a full and legal citizen of the UK. Tom didn’t know that, obviously, but he knew that the organisation Fish worked for had tremendous pull. It put Fish in a strange situation. Firstly, there were limits to how much he could abuse Torchwood’s autonomy and, well, the reason Tom wanted to come to the UK was his boss’s daughter. 

“He’s going to have to talk to Jack about that. What would he do here? Could he work with the police? I could have Gwen-”

“The legal and police system here are quite different. If Tom wished to work for the police here, he would have to start at the beginning,” Henry said, disappointed. 

Fish winced. “Is there something else he can do here? Private security?”

“He is looking into all avenues,” Henry said, looking out his window. 

“I can mention something to Gwen,” Fish said and Henry shook his head.

“I do not believe Tom wishes Jack to know of his intentions as of yet,” Henry said. 

“Gwen wouldn’t say anything, Henry, if I asked her not to… wait… his intentions?” The pieces slotted together in Fish’s mind. Concerned, he asked, “He isn’t popping the question this week, is he?” 

Henry closed his eyes, inwardly berating himself for the slip.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?” Fish said, concerned. He was also a bit hurt that Tom hadn’t mentioned something to him. He and Tom were close friends. 

“I have already advised Tom of that fact. Their relationship is long distance and complicated. They’ve not been dating long. They’re both divorcees. There’s a child involved.” Henry shook his head. “My son is quite impulsive; a trait he has inherited from his mother. I strongly advised him to request Jack’s permission before asking for Alice’s hand.”

Fish chuckled a bit. “That’s very quaint of you, Henry, but that kind of gesture might go over Jack’s head.”  

He was the last person who should speak up about someone’s relationship moving too quickly. He was happy for his… well… stepson would probably be a bit of a stretch since Tom was only a few years younger than him. Then again, he and Henry weren’t married so, technically, Tom wasn’t his stepson. The thought reminded Fish of something. When he’d gone to visit Henry, he’d thrown the subject of their own marriage into his lover’s court. He’d done the proposal before and he’d decided that, this time around, he’d like to be asked. But they’d been living together for two years now and no proposal had come. Fish felt a bit disappointed and then remembered his lover’s penchant for sloth.

Whenever Henry wanted to figure out how to say something complicated, the man usually sat in silence for a long time while he figured out what to say. Likely, he was still planning his proposal. Fish knew it would be spectacular. He reached across, taking Henry’s hand in his. Just like when Henry was working out what to say, Fish would wait patiently. Not for the first time, he wondered how his life had ended up like this. He was working for a secret alien organisation and sharing his bed and life with another man… and he wouldn’t change it for anything. Henry turned to him and they shared a loving smile. He parked the car outside of the railway station and got out to help Henry with his things. 

“You said Tom’s staying two weeks?” Fish asked. 

Henry nodded. “He’s investigating employment prospects. Alice is objectionable to leaving Wales but Tom believes he will have more options in London. He does want to investigate more throughly here.” 

“Does Alice know he wants to relocate?” Fish asked. 

Henry nodded again. “She does. I’m unsure of her feelings on the matter. Again, Joe-”

“I won’t say anything to Jack.” Fish asked, hugging his lover, “You’ll ring when you get to London?” 

“And as often as I can,” Henry replied. “You promise won’t work too hard? That you’ll rest and eat properly?” 

Fish smiled. Henry was always worrying about his diet and his sleeping habits. He buried his face in Henry’s neck. Though the likelihood of Fish losing Henry was far lower than Henry losing Fish, Fish still worried about his lover. London was a big city and dangerous for an immortal of the Game. The changes of him facing a challenge were greater. There were a lot of things that scared Joseph Fischer but the only thing that truly brought terror up in his chest was the thought of losing Henry. “Promise… promise me you’ll be careful?” 

“I promise,” Henry replied. 

Henry let go of Fish, dragging him in for a deep, long kiss. “I love you, Joe.” 

“I love you too,” he replied. “I’ll miss you.” 

“And I you, love.” 

Henry bent down, picking up his case. He might dislike Fish’s driving habits, but Fish had gotten him here just in time. They shared one last kiss before Henry boarded the train. An elderly woman was trying to get herself up onto the train with her bag. Henry stopped and put down his own things. 

“Allow me, ma’am,” he said. He politely held out his hand. 

“Oh, thank you, young man,” she said, brightly. “Such a gentlemen. A rare quality in today’s young people.”

Henry smiled. This woman had no idea that she was the younger of them. Once she was up on the train, Henry turned for his things to see Fish holding them up. Henry took them from him, bending down to kiss him one more time. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, a bit sad. 

“I love you,” Fish said again. 

Henry kissed him again. “I love you too. I’ll ring when I get to London.” 

With regret, Henry turned away to find his seat. Fish was supposed to accompany him on this trip, but as was nearly always the case, Torchwood had changed their plans. He put his luggage into the overhead rack and then sat down. As the train pulled away from the station, Henry leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He must have dozed off because when the train lurched, his head snapped up. He rubbed at his neck, stiff from the awkward angle. He checked his watch. He had dozed off but not for long. The train was still in Wales. He took out his wallet. Even though he disliked photographs, he still carried some. He dug out a picture a stranger had taken during Tom’s last visit to the UK. It was him and Joe along with Tom, Alice and Steven, all standing in front of the Wales Millennium Centre. 

"They're lovely," an elderly woman sitting across the aisle from him. It was the same woman he’d helped onto the train. 

It took Henry a moment to realise she was speaking to him. "Who?" 

"Your family, young man," she said, pointing at the mobile. "Take it from an old woman. Family is what is important in this life." 

Henry smiled. "You're quite right." 

"Amelia Taylor,” the woman said as she held out a gnarled hand. 

Henry shook it gently. "Henry Blount. Lovely to make your acquaintance Mrs. Taylor.” 

"And yours, my dear,” she said. She leaned in to get a better look at the picture. "Is the boy yours or your husband's? He has your husband’s look. What is it they call what you people do these days? Surrogates?" 

Henry's smile broadened at the woman's nosiness. Steven, instead of standing with Tom and Alice, was standing next to Henry. He was surprised a woman of her age though Steven belonged to him and Fish not to Alice and Tom. 

“This is my half brother,” Henry said, giving the usual lie easily, “and his girlfriend. The boy is hers from a previous marriage.” 

The woman made a scoffing noise. “Families are so complicated these days. He’s a strapping young lad. Your husband is quite handsome," she said, smiling at the picture.

“We’re not married,” Henry corrected, smiling. 

“Well what are you waiting for!” she admonished. “I met my William in 1950, God rest his soul. We were both eighteen. Love at first sight." 

"I'm sorry for your loss," Henry said, honestly. 

"Don't be, my dear boy. I'll follow him along soon. Fifty long years we had together," she said with a smile. “You should marry that man of yours. The years, they pass in the blink of an eye. You young people never understand that either.” 

Henry smiled again. "Have you any children, Mrs. Taylor?” 

"Oh yes, three daughters,” she said. She dug in her purse and produced pictures. "Eight grandchildren." 

"They're a lovely family. You are indeed blessed," he said. 

He missed the woman's reply. A small commotion up the train aisle caught his attention. He craned his neck to get a look. A woman was walking to the far end of the carriage, away from where Henry was seated. She was holding a bag in her hand, calling after a man who was rapidly walking away from her. 

"Sir! You left your bag!" she shouted. 

He shook his head, the man was ignoring the woman and continuing on. _Rude_ … He thought to himself. The nosy woman next to him was craning her neck as well. 

"How rude," she said, echoing Henry's thought. 

"Indeed," he said.

Henry leaned into the aisle to get a better look. The woman tapped the man on the shoulder and his hood fell back and Henry blanched. The man was no man at all. He was some sort of creature! His head bald and covered in horns. There were gill like slits all over his neck. _An alien!_

Henry dug for his mobile and activated the camera, glad now that his lover had insisted upon the more modern mobile telephone. He snapped a few pictures and then immediately texted them to Fish. Once the picture had gone through, he sent another text to his lover, describing the strange situation. 

Other passengers had noticed the strange man and there were screams and shouts as people started to try to dart out of the train carriage. A man ended up stumbling and falling into Henry's lap and Henry dropped his mobile. He pushed the man off of him and crouched down, feeling on the floor for his mobile and, more importantly, his coat with its concealed sword. The crush of people at his end of the carriage was growing. Henry saw smoke coming from the bag in the creature's hands. _By Heaven!_ _All these people!_  

He looked around for his Watcher, Ashley Greenfield, but didn’t see her. His heart plummeted with guilt. Ashley may not be in his carriage but she was on this train. Henry looked at the elderly woman again. The strange situation didn't seem to faze her in the slightest. She was sitting in her seat, looking at the pictures in her hand. Henry saw calm on her face. She was sad as she looked at him. 

"It looks like I'll be seeing my William sooner than I thought,” she said. She was shifting in her seat, trying to block him from harm. "I'm so sorry for you, my dear boy. If you get behind me…" 

"We're going to get out of here, Mrs. Taylor,” he said, pushing through the people to the window past her. 

"Do not concern yourself with me," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "I'm an old woman. I've lived a long life.”  

"And you will continue to live it," he said, firmly. 

Henry elbowed the train window but it was plastic and held firm. He thought of trying for his sword but the crush of people was too much. He’d never get the leverage he needed to smash the window. The other passengers had started to scream. The panicked hoard couldn't escape and the carriage was rapidly filling with smoke. Henry tried to push past them, to get to the alien and his device but the panicked people had trapped him. He was going to die and there was no way to use his death to prevent that of others. Henry stood up next to Mrs. Taylor, trying to shield her from the press of the other people. He heard her praying softly. Henry closed his eyes, drowning out the screams around him. There was no way to ensure he would survive this wreck. If a piece of debris decapitated him, Henry would die permanently. Was there another immortal on the train? Would everything he was scatter on the winds? Fish and Tom appeared in his mind, a memory of the three of the eating dinner one evening. Another memory, holding his arms out as Tom wobbled towards him, taking his first steps. He squeezed his eyes closed at the memory of last night. Fish was laying beneath him, flushed from their love making. _I love you…_ It was the last thing Henry thought as the train heaved upwards, the heat enveloped him and the world went dark.


	15. Chapter 15

No sooner had Fish rounded up the rest of the team to tell the others about Henry's strange text than Ianto said that UNIT had rang. A terrorist bomb had gone off on a train bound for London. It hadn’t been difficult for Fish to put the pieces together. His heart had plummeted into his throat and he’d nearly collapsed when Ianto had confirmed that Henry’s train and the one derailed were one in the same. Though Henry could withstand normal injury, if something happened, if Henry were decapitated in the wreck… Fish’s heart had practically stopped. He was wholly unprepared to face losing Henry. 

There was the Game. There were other immortals and challenges but they were few and far between. Fish was a man of science and maths and the maths said that Henry would outlive him with or without death by Torchwood. The idea of life without Henry, of facing the few short remaining years of his life with the gaping hole in his heart had left him paralyzed. Fish felt he’d never known desperation until now. 

He’d never been one to ask God or the universe for anything but he closed his eyes tightly in prayer. He’d spent his entire life living as best he could. God and the universe had given him the gift of great intellect. He’d tried to use that gift to make the world a better place with Torchwood even though it meant he would give his life for humanity’s future. But then the universe had thrown Henry into his life. His willing sacrifice had to count for something didn’t it? He offered up a promise. When his time came, he wouldn’t rage against it. He’d walk up to the altar and lay down upon it like a lamb. All he wanted was Henry alive and safe in return. 

"Can't we land this thing already?" Fish said, panicked as he gripped the straps holding him into his seat. 

UNIT had sent a helicopter for them all and now they were hovering over the wreckage, waiting for their turn to set down. The helicopter landed with a jolt and Fish started undoing his straps and jumped out of the helicopter. His eyes immediately started to water, stinging from the stench of burning plastic and flesh. There were soldiers everywhere. Even though they were still in Wales, UNIT had taken over the entire clean up operation. It was simply too large and public a disaster for Torchwood.  

Fish grabbed Miranda's arm. Both of them bent to avoid the helicopter blades. "We need to find him, Evie!"

"I know, Fish. We need to get to the epicenter of the explosion. If he saw the perpetrator, he’ll be there," she said and give Fish a little shake. “You need to focus. Please." 

He nodded and took a few deep breaths. The second helicopter set down and the rest of the team got out. 

“Martha Jones, voice of a nightingale,” Jack called out. Normally, he did so with exuberance and affection, but now his tone was subdued. Martha ran to hug the other former companion. 

"Miranda!" Martha said, as brightly as she could manage. The two women hadn’t seen each other in some time. The reunion was bittersweet. 

"Martha, I wish the circumstances were better," Miranda said, giving the UNIT doctor a quick hug. 

"Me too," Martha said, crouching low as she herded the Torchwood team away from the makeshift helicopter pad. 

"The last of the fires are nearly out. Jack said Henry was on the train?” Martha asked. 

"Yes, he's the reason we received our intel that this was an alien attack so quickly,” Miranda said, standing up straight now that they were clear of the helicopter. She produced a picture from her phone, the one Henry had sent her and one of Henry himself. Martha had only met Henry once at Jack and Ianto’s wedding. 

"I don't recognise the species and I haven’t seen Henry’s name among the injured,” Martha said, examining the first two pictures. She started tapping at her tablet. “Perhaps he’s among the missing…” 

“Whatever lists he’s on, I need him removed. All evidence of him being on this train must be completely erased,” Miranda insisted. 

Normally, the Watchers would be the ones to ensure that there was no trace of an immortal of the Game but this was a unique situation. This act of terrorism involved aliens. UNIT and Torchwood had the area locked. The Watchers have operatives all over the world but they saw no reason to let Torchwood know that or to not let Torchwood do their work for them. Neither fact was something Miranda was privy to.  

She produced another picture, a young woman with red streaks dyed into her hair. It was of Henry’s Watcher. Both Miranda and Ianto’s Watchers had showed concern for their colleague. “I also need to know if a young woman named Ashley Greenfield is on your injured or deceased list." 

“Ashley Greenfield you said?” Martha started tapping on her tablet. “She’s in grave condition at hospital. I’ve sent the information to your mobile. I’m sorry. They don’t expect her to survive.”

Miranda sent up a silent prayer for the young woman. Henry might find her ‘bloody intrusive’ but he was fond of her. She quickly forwarded the information to Kiernan Davies, her own Watcher. She turned their conversation back to business, bringing up the first photograph again. 

"Jack called him an Akkoran," she said. "He was likely killed in the blast."

“The evidence points to more than this single bomber," Martha said as she waved at the Torchwood team. “Do you know which carriage Henry was in? I can get a team to escort you."

“Towards the front of the train. I appreciate the offer of an escort, Martha but I can't let anyone else see him," Miranda said firmly.

"It's not very safe in there or pretty," Martha said. "There's a lot of debris and bodies." 

"I'm no strange to carnage. As for danger," Miranda turned to the other immortals. "Ifan? Jack? Let's go." 

"I'm not staying here!" Fish exclaimed. He bolted forwards and grabbed Miranda’s arm. 

Hart and Gwen had protested as well but Fish's objection was louder. 

Miranda dragged Fish aside to try to reason with him. "You do not want to see him like this, Fish. I promise you that." 

Fish shoved her and snarled, “I love him! So if you think I'm staying out here while he's burning in there you've got another fucking thing coming to you, Evie. Get the fuck out of my way!” 

"And he would not want you to endanger yourself by going in there," she said. She grabbed his arms in an iron grip. "He will come back, you won't! Do you think his lordship would ever forgive me if I allowed anything to happen to you?” 

Fish shook her off. Miranda thought he was acquiescing. Instead, Fish drew his side arm, pointing it at her head. “You let me through Evie or I swear to fucking God, I will put a fucking bullet right between your fucking eyes and step over your corpse to get to him!” 

There was a madness in her friend’s eyes. It wasn’t an empty threat. Miranda couldn’t afford to die such a public death in front of so many. “Fine, but this isn't going to be pretty. Jack? Ifan? Let's go." 

The three immortals walked just in front of Fish like some sort of grizzly escort. The four of them made their way to the epicenter. The smell of burning plastic hung in the air and as they approached the carriage they needed. The foul stench of death and burning flesh grew thicker. The smoke stung their eyes and burned their mouths and noses. The ground was muddy, wet from the water used to extinguish the fires. 

It was with reluctance the group split up to cover more ground. Jack, Ianto and Miranda all ventured off in different directions. Miranda had informed him that Henry’s presence would be diminished if he were still dead. Fish was right next to the twisted carriages. He wanted to ignore the charred bodies but Henry was among them. UNIT had already completed search and rescue operations. They’d given their attention to the living first. Now, they were in salvage mode, cleaning up the wreck and retrieving bodies as they went. The Torchwood group was far ahead of the UNIT engineers. He stamped back his nausea as he let his eyes drift from corpse to corpse. 

He slammed his eyes shut when he caught sight of a headless body. He couldn’t open his eyes. The dread rose up in him, the grief choking his heart. Had that headless body been wearing Henry’s suit? Was the love of his life truly dead? Would he ever feel Henry’s touch again? Hear his voice, his laugh? What was his life without Henry in it? How could he go on? Fish felt ice running down the back of his neck. He gripped his belly as his heart began to break in his chest. The monologue began in his head over and over again. He couldn’t breath. _No… no…. no…_ He continued to back away, his legs threatening to give out from underneath him when, suddenly, he tripped. He ended up sprawled out on the muddy ground. He opened his eyes to see what he'd tripped over. It was an arm, jutting out from the carriage’s ripped open wall… with Henry's watch on it. 

"HENRY!" Fish yelled. He dove for the hand, gripping it. Henry was laying half out of the train, his arm outstretched… and he still had his head. There was a look of surprised terror frozen on his face and his eyes stared up into nothing. Fish broke down sobbing, cupping Henry's cold face in his hands. "HELP! Somebody help!"

Miranda skidded to his side and peered in between the jumbled seats and metal. 

"Goddess below, he's impaled on his own sword," Miranda said. The sword's hilt was wedged against the seat, jutting up through Henry's middle and into the seat on top of him. She shined her torch, relieved to see that Henry's body seemed to be intact. His legs looked badly burned and severely broken but they were still attached. Missing limbs regenerated but the recovery was excruciatingly slow and painful. 

Jack and Ianto arrived seconds later and the three immortals began to try to free Henry from the seats and tangle of other corpses. Eventually they managed to untwist his body from them, dragging it out onto the mud. 

"Jesus, Mandy," Ianto said, as he took in the sight. The sword had entered Henry's back, going straight through his belly. The blade was bent just above the cross guard and the hilt was nearly flush against Henry's back. The front of the blade arched to the side. 

Miranda grabbed the twisted hilt and nodded. With Ianto and Fish holding Henry's body firmly, she yanked with all her strength and the blade came free. Sobbing, Fish gathered Henry into his arms. Miranda stretched out Henry's legs, pushing the bones back through the flesh. It would help them to heal faster. After he revived, it would be hours before Henry could walk without pain, possibly half the day.

Jack leaned over to her. "How long do you think?" 

"Hours at least," she said. "We need to get him out of here while he's still dead." 

She taped her comm unit. “Martha? Can you connect me to Colonel Ashline please?”

“Sure Miranda.”

Several beeps sounded, indicating a change in channel.

“Colonel Ashline?” 

“Doctor Ryan?” the deep Welsh voice answered. 

“Yes, sir, this is Doctor Ryan. I have a personal favor to ask of you can you move us to a secure line?" 

Miranda waited a few moments and she heard the static blast, characteristic of UNIT's frequency scramblers. "We're secure now, Doctor Ryan."

"Thank you Colonel. Someone who shares my 'abnormality' was aboard the train. I need to remove him before he revives but the site is under investigation. I need you to grant me special dispensation. I would owe you a debt, sir."

"Granted, Doctor Ryan, and don't think I won't collect on that someday," the Colonel said lightly. 

"I hope that you will, Colonel, and thank you," she said disconnecting the line and then reactivating her comm unit. "Martha? I need a stretcher and a body bag as soon as possible. Tell Gwen and Hart that they can move in as well. I need to get this area processed." 

After Martha answered her, Miranda disconnected her comm unit and crossed over to Ianto and Jack. "I'm going to stay with Fish. You two start looking for the alien's body." 

Jack and Ianto moved off as Miranda stood behind Fish who was still cradling Henry's head in his lap. Martha, Gwen and Hart walked up not a few minutes later, a stretcher and Fish's portable kit in Hart's hands and a body bag in Gwen's. 

Miranda knelt down and laid a hand on Fish's shoulder. The Australian looked up at her and then at the stretcher and body bag. Swallowing, he stood up and turned away. He couldn't stand to watch this. Hart came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, handing him his portable kit. 

"Thanks, mate," Fish said, scrubbing at his face. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Henry.” 

“Why would you? It’s not your secret to tell,” Hart said, confused. He gave Fish's arm a reassuring squeeze before he started for the carriage himself. Fish guessed to look for the alien body. Well, what was left of it.  

Fish started gathering various samples, the work allowing him to distance himself from the carnage around him and his dead lover. Normally, Fish would have held onto Henry as he revived but the situation wasn’t allowing that right now. Jack and Ianto emerged from the destroyed carriage carrying a body bag between them. Fish saw Ianto stowing the portable camera in his pocket. 

“There’s definitely some alien pieces in there. There’s a head with horns…” Ianto said. “How are we working this, Jack?”

“This is a Torchwood case but for now, we’re going to work out of the UNIT command centre and analysis tents,” Jack said. He turned to Fish. “Ianto’s going to take Henry back to your loft. He can revive at home and you can stay with him.” 

"This is important, Jack," Fish said.

“It is. Which is why I need you on top of your game, Fish, not wondering whether or not Henry is awake yet," Jack said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The UNIT chopper will bring you back.” 

Fish sighed with relief. “Thanks, Jack.” 

“After he’s awake? I want you back here,” Jack insisted. He tapped his comm unit and began talking, turning away from Fish back towards the wreckage. He turned back to Fish and said over his shoulder, “Okay, maybe not right after. Make the sex quick though.”

Fish blushed furiously as he took out his mobile. There were helicopters flying overhead, UNIT and media. Tom would be worried. Fish took out his mobile and sent a carefully worded text telling Tom that Henry was safe and that he and Alice to stay out of Wales until he or Jack said otherwise.


	16. Chapter 16

Miranda stepped out of the biologics tent. She’d already shed her protective gear. A UNIT private had kindly given her a cigarette. She hadn’t had one of these in months. She turned her back to keep the flame out of the wind as she lit it. The sound of a helicopter brought her head up. When it landed, she was surprised to see Henry and Fish both get out of it. She was only expecting the return of their technician. Henry was leaning heavily on a cane and Fish was also helping him along. His jaw was tight and there was a painful furrow to his brow. Once they were clear of the blades, they headed straight for one of the forensic tents. Miranda jogged over to stop them. 

“My Lord Richmond, are you all right?” she asked. Her method of address may have been respectful, but her tone wasn’t. She wanted to know what her former student was doing here. It would take Miranda hours to heal from such extensive injuries. It would likely take the much younger immortal nearly all day. 

Fish stood back, awkwardly watching on. 

“I wish to lend my assistance, Mao-Lin,” Henry replied, stiffly. 

Miranda took in her student’s face. He was clearly in significant pain. There was sweat on his brow and a small trickle rolled down his face in front of his ear. “That is admirable, your grace, but-” 

Henry raised his hand to silence her. “You weren’t there, Mao-Lin. You didn’t see them… all those people…” 

“I understand this is distressing, your grace, but you are not-”

“Silence,” Henry barked. It was the commanding tone that Fish hated so much. At least it wasn’t directed at him now. He’d tried to get Henry to stay in bed and rest but there’d been no dissuading him. The moment his lover’s legs had healed enough to support his weight, he’d refused to stay behind. Now, Fish finally understood when Tom had said, _‘Have you seen my old man angry yet? I mean really fucking angry? He's got a nasty fucking temper on him, Joe, I shit you not.’_ Even though Fish and Henry had been living together for years, this was his first look at the full extent of that temper. 

Henry took a limping step towards his teacher. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Ashley has lost one of her legs and she is breathing out of a fucking tube.” He added with a chill, “I will have satisfaction.” 

Miranda could count the number of times she’d heard Henry resort to that level of profanity. “Fish has manufactured the proper Torchwood credentials for you?”

Henry nodded. 

“Where is everyone, Evie?” Fish asked. 

“Gwen and Ianto are both back at the Hub, searching for the terrorists still at large. I believe Jack is in the forensics tent with Captain Hart. You’re in charge of the team, Fish. You’ll be working directly with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart who’s been coordinating while they awaited your return. There’s also a young woman named Osgood who comes with the highest of recommendations. Remember that Torchwood is still in charge of this case. Search and rescue is complete. We’re in clean up and salvage phases. Our primary goal is investigative. Anything that can lead us to the whereabouts of the terrorists currently at large is priority one.” 

“Right. C’mon, Henry,” Fish said. He took Henry’s arm and helped his lover into the tend. Miranda shook her head. She had absolutely no idea what help Henry could be. While the man had made an effort over his lifetime to learn and grow with the times, the area of Fish’s expertise was wholly out of Henry’s sphere of knowledge. While well educated, Henry was an artist, not a scientist and alien technology was completely foreign to him. 

The comm unit in Miranda’s ear sprang to life. “Miranda? Done with that fag yet?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming back in now, Martha,” Miranda said. Her cigarette had burned away mostly on its own. She hadn’t smoked it at all. There was only enough for one long drag so she took it and then crushed it under her shoe. With a sigh, she went back into the biologics tent. She allowed the alien devices to flash on and off, decontaminating her. She put on a protective suit and re-entered the clean area. UNIT was taking human casualties to a makeshift morgue just outside of Cardiff but the alien terrorists were here. As more alien remains were identified, they were being brought here as well. 

Pieces of the four bodies were laid out and several UNIT doctors were looking at them. Miranda and Martha were overseeing the process and they were all nearly finished. There were a few pieces of the devices imbedded on the corpses as well as various kinds of residue. It was their hope that the devices could glean some information. Martha and Miranda were both leaning over the Akkoran that had been in Henry’s carriage. There wasn't much left of the him, most of his limbs had been burned away or blasted off. Martha was doing most of the work, Miranda was merely assisting. 

"Look at this, Miranda," Martha said, pointing with a gloved finger. 

“Another piece of the device," Miranda said. She tapped the control panel on her suit, activating the comm unit in her ear. “Fish? Captain Hart? Could one of you please report to the biologics tent?”

Neither answered. Miranda was about to ask again when Hart stepped into the biologics tent. He was wearing a protective suit. It was strange to see him dressed so. Usually Hart spurned any form of protective gear citing fifty first century immunity. 

“What can I do for you, Dollface?" She heard his voice through the comm unit. 

“Don’t call me that, Captain,” she said. It was her usual retort, but lately, it had lost a lot of its bite. Also, lately, she’d felt a slight blush on her face at the endearment. 

“There's a piece of the device here. I don't want to damage it," Miranda said, waving down at the corpse. 

"Show me," he said.

"Here," Martha pointed at the smattering of circuitry embedded into the flesh. 

"Right," Hart said. He dug out a pair of tweezers and held his hand out for Martha’s scalpel. Once she’d handed it to him, he leaned over the corpse. 

"It's seared onto the flesh. Almost got it," Hart said as he tried to dig the piece out. 

It came free with a sickening tear and snapping sound. There was a significant amount of flesh adhered to it. Hart held the piece aloft. He squinted his eyes at it, twisting and turning it under the lights. He bent down, picking the flesh away as best he could, rinsing it often. His efficiency and expedience surprised Miranda. Hart had the piece clean in moments. He held the clean piece aloft again. She could see Hart's quick mind at work. 

Without warning, he tried to peck Miranda on the cheek, banging his face shield into hers, and said, "Beautiful, thanks Dollface."

Hart didn't even look at either woman as he left the tent through the connecting flap to the forensics area. Miranda felt her face grow warmer. 

Martha teased, "Jack and Ianto must be catching." 

"Pardon?" Miranda asked.

“First Fish now you? What's going on with you and McSteamy over there?" Martha asked, her eyes dancing. 

"Nothing," Miranda said, firmly. 

"That didn't look like nothing," Martha said and laughed. "Got him wrapped around your little finger, you have.”

"Nonsense, Martha," Miranda said, dismissive. 

Martha giggled but didn’t pursue the subject. The two women returned to their work. By the time she and Martha left the corpses in the hands of the rest of the biologics department, the sun was coming up over the horizon. They’d learned little of importance; nothing that would tell them where these aliens had been or where the rest of the group could be hiding out. It seems the devices were items the terrorists had brought with them. Nothing was time current. UNIT would now be left to learn more details about the species and their technology with Torchwood kept in the loop. When the two women emerged from the biologics tent, Jack and Hart were both speaking in low voices next to the forensics tent. They both looked grave. 

They all took UNIT helicopters back to Cardiff. There was still a lot to be done at the derailment site but that was left to UNIT. Torchwood had more pressing matters and Jack wanted them all back to regroup and debrief. The helicopters dropped them off in the Plass and then took off to return to the derailment site. The short trip down the invisible lift was somber. 

“Boardroom in ten minutes everyone,” Jack bellowed across the Hub. 

Miranda was too tired to quip back at him about using his inside voice. They were all exhausted. They’d been up all night and gotten little rest the past couple of days. Miranda saw the Duke was still leaning on his cane. He leaned on it as he walked towards the kitchen with Ianto to help the Welshman prepare food and drink for the team. Miranda deeply hoped that the drink portion included some of Jack’s industrial strength coffee. Her eyes burned and her limbs felt heavy. Her mind felt as if in a fog. 

Martha and Miranda walked towards the boardroom together. Miranda noted the extra chairs for Henry and Martha. Colonel Ashline, their UNIT liaison, had wanted to be a part of this briefing but Jack had insisted the only UNIT presence be Martha Jones. The boardroom table had never looked so crowded. Henry sat down heavily next to Fish, leaning his cane against his chair. After Ianto had distributed some of Jack's industrial strength coffee to all in attendance, Jack stood up. He leaned forward, planting his hands on the table. 

"Okay, everyone, we have a lot of ground to cover. Henry, thanks for joining us.”

“Of course, Captain Harkness,” Henry said with a tight smile. He turned to Martha. “Before we begin, I would like to inquire about the fate of another passenger, Doctor Jones?” 

Martha lifted her tablet and tapped at it. “Name?”

“Amelia Taylor,” Henry said, sadly. 

A sad look came over her face. “I’m sorry, Henry. She’s among the deceased.” 

Anger crossed Henry’s features. His voice was hollow as he said, “Thank you.” 

Fish reached under the table for his lover’s hand, lifting it to his lips. He pulled Henry’s chair as close to his own as he could. 

Jack cleared his throat. “Fish you want to start us off again?" 

Fish didn’t let go of Henry’s hand as he tapped his own tablet with his free one. The screen above them filled with images. “UNIT forensics gave the train a cursory once over after search and rescue was done. There’s still a lot of work to do but here’s what we know so far. There were a total of four suicide bombers. I analysed the samples from the wreckage. The residue is consistent with that of the explosive residue from what we took off our friend down in the cells.” 

"So, it’s the same group," Gwen said. 

“It all adds up that way,” Fish said. He nodded at Hart. "John? You want to go into the tech."

The former Time Agent tapped the tablet in front of him and the screen changed. A model of the train came up. “The suicide bombers had flame grenades on them. The real payloads were the devices on the train wheels - hooked up to remote detonators on the suicide bombers. None of the tech is time current. They brought these with them. The devices all went off nearly simultaneously after the initial explosion in Henry’s car so that as many cars derailed as possible."

"The main purpose of terrorism; maximizing damage and human loss,” Gwen said. 

Henry frowned. “The alien being in my carriage appeared to be making an escape.” 

“Akkoran religious faith prohibits suicide,” Hart said, shrugging. “Your car exploded first probably to give him time to escape before the rest of the train derailed. Whether or not he actually wanted to escape or just make an attempt is anyone’s guess.”

Fish said, “This took a lot of forethought. They brought these devices with them. They knew exactly how to derail the train. There was a lot of planning and research done here.”  

Jack nodded in Fish’s direction. “The Linearist downstairs is a patsy. He was meant to confuse us and throw us off track and it worked.” Jack and Hart exchanged a worried look. “John and I think we know what's going on but what we're about to tell you is something that can never leave this room.”  

“What we’re about to tell you violates… well, everything,” Hart said. He looked a bit stunned, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

“Doing this goes against everything John and I ever learned at the Time Agency about protecting the integrity of the time stream. Every moral. Every code. Every ethic,” Jack stressed. “I know we told you some things before, but never anything this specific or from our personal timelines.” 

“I don’t understand,” Martha said, shaking her head. “Why are you telling us then?”

“Jack thinks it’s worth it so that we all understand what’s at stake here,” Hart said. He looked at Jack and gave him a small glare.  

Miranda steepled her fingers in front of her face in her typical Spock-like way. “You don’t agree, Captain?” 

Hart turned in his chair, surprised someone had asked for his opinion at all. It took him a second to recover. “No, I don’t. We’ve told you some general things, nothing you can’t assume on your own, but this is different. Time’s funny, Dollface. People think it’s simple; something happens and then other things happen in a linear progression. Cause. Effect. But that’s not the way it works at all. Time’s this gigantic web that has strands running in directions you’d never thought of or even imagined. What we tell you now, can just as easily compromise the time stream as easily as it can protect it.” 

Miranda saw everyone around the table shift at the awkwardness. She would have preferred not having this discussion in front of the team nor with a member of UNIT present. She was second in command. They should have informed her and allowed her to be part of the decision on whether or not to tell the team, especially since the two former Time Agents were divided on the issue. 

“It’s important information, Will,” Jack insisted. He was giving her his ‘trust me’ look. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Jack turned to Hart and gestured in front of him with his hand. 

Hart sighed. He’d hoped Miranda would see his side. Then again he was just happy to have had his opinion considered. Most of the time, the team acted like he didn’t exist. “As Jack and I have said already, when time travel was invented, it caused a massive upheaval, not unlike the invention of nuclear weapons. Every belief, religious or scientific, creates extremists. The Linearist movement, and other groups like it, were instrumental in the formation of the Time Agency. A lot of these movements stepped up their game. They made larger attacks. They went back in time and tried to change history, create paradoxes and such so the Time Agency was born. Temporal crimes are serious offences in the future.” 

“A lot of people tried to use time travel for different ends. Some had good intentions but a lot of them didn’t. The Time Agency filled a hole in law enforcement. It started out as a branch of a larger agency," Jack said. He took a deep breath and reluctantly said, "The Torchwood Institute." 

Gasps were heard all around the boardroom table and a few jaws dropped. 

Ianto shook his head. "I don't even want to think about the time line implications of you joining the Time Agency, a branch of Torchwood, and then went back in time and started working for Torchwood." 

Hart and Jack both smiled. 

"Time travel, you can't keep it straight in your head, Eye Candy," Hart said. “The Torchwood Institute is _the_ law enforcement body of the Great and Bountiful Human Empire. The Time Agency's formation wasn't popular on a lot of fronts. Some people thought time travel would destroy the universe like our friend downstairs." 

Jack waved his hand out to the side and continued, "And at the other end, people thought time travel should be freely available to everyone and that people should be allowed to use it any way they wanted. Complete temporal autonomy and that's what they called themselves, The Temporal Autarchy."

Miranda narrowed her eyes, confused. “This isn’t any different than facts you’ve told us before. How is this a crime?” 

“We’re getting there, Dollface. There was a class at the academy on agency history, all of us were required to take it," Hart said, waving back and forth between him and Jack. 

Jack interjected, "They mentioned a faction that broke off from the TTA and the Linearists, a movement that joined forces and wanted to stop the Time Agency. There were never any details about how they were stopped just that they’d tried to change history. It was only mentioned in passing.”  

Hart rolled his eyes and continued, “At the time, Jack and I thought it was strange. The TTA and the Linearists had completely different ideologies when it came to time travel. The idea of them collaborating was big. Something like that would normally be worth at least a whole lecture if not several because if there was one thing the Agency loved, it was tooting its own horn about how it had risen up to overcome and blah blah blah. Anyway, the professor mentioned it once and then never brought up again." 

To the immortals around the table, the implication was clear. Jack worked for Torchwood. Jack was immortal. Had he influenced the class’s content to give a subtle clue to himself? The whole thing made Miranda’s head hurt. No wonder this was a crime. Jack could be greatly influencing his own time line. 

“So that’s what this group is doing?” Gwen asked, confused. “They’re trying to stop the Time Agency from being formed by destabilizing Torchwood?” 

"I don't understand how committing terrorist acts against Britain would stop the Time Agency from being formed," Martha said, confused. “How would that have anything to do with Torchwood?” 

Ianto interjected, “UNIT is already aware that aliens are responsible for the public disturbance in Cathys Park, the train explosion and the derailing. They’re also aware that these aliens arrived through the rift. I’ve already been on the phone with Her Majesty. Two major public instances of alien involvement one with civilian deaths? It looks like we cocked up. A few more large terrorist attacks with aliens at the middle and Torchwood could easily be dissolved or fall under the purview of UNIT or some other agency."

"Which would be nothing short of a disaster,” Jack said. "The Torchwood Institute is tremendously important over the next three thousand years. This is their objective. Stop Torchwood. Stop the Time Agency.” 

“Why go so far back?” Gwen asked. It made no sense to her. “If Torchwood is as important as you say, why disrupt it so far into the past?” 

Hart shrugged. “A lot of these people have ideology not dissimilar from antiestablishment and antigovernment nuts today. It’s the same type of person just in a different time. It’s not just the Time Agency these people have a problem with, it’s any organised form of government or authority.” 

"So we need to figure out their next move and stop them," Gwen said. She took a large gulp of coffee. “The patsy downstairs. Four dead at the park. Four on the train. That leaves four more.”

“They could each have individual missions,” Miranda said, frowning.

“I don’t think so,” Fish said, turning in his chair. “They’re escalating. Anything larger than the train and they’ll need more than one person.” 

Jack looked around at everyone. “You all know what’s at stake here. I’ve always said we’re arming humanity for the future. Now you understand more about what that means.” 

“UNIT will offer anything you need, Jack. Manpower. Equipment. Anything,” Martha said.

“Thanks, Martha. I think we’re good,” Jack said, nodding. “I know we haven’t gotten anything off the train, but there might be something on the footage before it left the railway station. Henry? Gwen? Two hour kip for the both of you. We’ll sleep in short shifts.”

Everyone stood, thinking Jack was finished but he wasn’t. “Henry? Martha? John? You three go on. Everyone else hang back for a minute."

When they were out of ear shot, Jack said, "I want your opinions on how John is doing as part of the team. We need to decide what to do with him." 

"Is now really the time for this, Jack?" Miranda said. "You're making him sound like a stray dog." 

"A dangerous one that could bite you," Gwen said, under her breath.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Jack said pointing at Gwen. "This is a major operation, Will. The future is at stake and now you know how much. We need to clear the air here and now." 

"He's been on his best behaviour, sir, but I keep wondering what his angle is," Ianto said with a nod.

"Will?" Jack asked. 

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. _The truth is this Torchwood thing… it makes me want to be a better man… to atone… and… and so do you…_ She shook off the feelings those words brought up. This wasn’t the time or the place for them. “I agree with Gwen, we can't trust him. And someone we can’t trust has no place here." 

Fish twisted in his chair and said, “I don't have a problem with him, Jack. I’m good with the computer technology of this century but all that alien shite?” He waved at the room behind him. “I’m no Toshiko Sato. The backlog is growing, not shrinking like it did in Tosh’s day. I'm a chemist first, not an engineer. The tech is piling up. I get by but I’m struggling. I’ve learned a lot from him and he’s a lot of help,” Fish started strumming his fingers on the table in a nervous gesture. He could feel Gwen and Ianto’s disapproving stares. He knew his friendship with Hart had been a source of strain but he still spoke his mind, “From what I've seen here? I don't see a reason to send him packing. You lot might all think I'm mental but my experience so far? John Hart is a good man who I trust. He’s my friend. He saved my life." 

Still, Fish could feel the elephant in the room. It was Gwen who pointed at it. 

"Tosh and Owen are dead because of him, Jack. He tried to kill all of us. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him." 

But it was Miranda who pointed at the bigger elephant behind it. 

"The man responsible for the deaths of Sato and Harper is laying in one of our cryodrawers.” She cast Jack a nervous glance, knowing she was toeing a line. “I understand the bitterness you all feel but Captain Hart took the path of least resistance. He did what he had to do to survive." 

"You agree with what that bastard did?” Gwen demanded.

"I understand it, Gwen. There’s a difference," Miranda said, her voice scornful. 

“He had a choice,” Ianto said, bitterly. 

Miranda honed in on her student immediately. “I’ve taught you better than that, Ifan. The high road doesn’t lead to the Prize. It leads to your head rolling across the pavement.” 

"Will, time and a place," Jack warned and Fish could see a stern lecture heading the Welshman's way at a more appropriate time. 

Hart interrupted the awkward silence, coming into the boardroom at a run. “Joe? That cute little AI of yours has something. I uploaded that clever geographic profile of Gwen’s into it. She did some fancy footwork with common travel routes and foot traffic… some bollocks I don’t understand but it’s got a hit. An abandoned shop on City Road and Pearson Street with people inside.” 

"Could be some chavs," Ianto said, with a shrug. 

“She says ninety percent probability.” Hart jerked his head towards the garage. “Henry’s got the SUV warming up and Eye Candy’s car.” 

Ianto rolled his eyes, standing. “Why is it always my car?” 

“Because you’re the only one who can keep up with Jack’s driving,” Miranda replied.


	17. Chapter 17

Martha returned to the derailment site while the rest of the team followed their new lead. Miranda and Ianto were in Ianto’s car with Henry while everyone else was in the SUV. Ianto was driving, doing well keeping up after Jack. Henry was busying himself with checking his gun. Miranda gave Henry a slight glare. While the Duke had shed his cane, it was still possible he was not one hundred percent. “Are you certain you’ve healed sufficiently, your grace?”

“I have some lingering pain in my legs, nothing unmanageable. I assure you, I am able bodied.” If he hadn’t been able to handle the assault, he would have remained behind. He’d never do anything to put Fish in danger, nor anyone else on the team. He asked, “You advised our Watchers to remain behind, Mao-Lin?”

“I did, your grace,” she replied. “They may not listen.” 

Henry sat back, disappointed. 

“It’s their choice,” Miranda said. 

“If Ashley had not been following me-“

“Neither here nor there. The Game itself is not benign. Watchers understand the risks involved,” Miranda interrupted.  

Right as Ianto pulled up to the kerb behind the SUV, Jack's voice came over their comm units. "Ianto? Through the front with Will and John. Everyone else? We'll go through the back. Non-lethal force everyone. If it is them, we need someone alive for questioning. You hear that? John? Will?”

“Non-lethal,” Hart said, sounding disappointed. 

The team discretely got out of the vehicles. Henry and Ianto had portable door rams in their hands. The team split as ordered with their guns drawn. Crouched low, Miranda, Ianto and Hart approached the front entrance. The lock was damaged. Hart took his place behind the two immortals. Since the scene at the park, Hart had begun carrying his Torchwood issue equipment. His comm unit was in his ear. 

"On my count, everyone," Jack said through their comm units. “Three… two… one… GO!"

Ianto swung the ram at the door and it opened easily. The six Torchwood agents plus one sprinted into the empty shop, their guns raised. Jack and Hart were shouting at the men the strange language the two of them often used together. 

They’d caught the men unaware. There were four of them and they were scrambling not for their weapons, but for their belongings and escape. Their movements, again, spoke of military precision. One of them tossed a device at the window. It went off with a flash of light, creating a large hole. It hadn’t broken the window. The device had caused a large elliptical portion of the glass and the boards nailed to the outside to simply vanish. Two of them laid down cover fire while the other two reached for rucksacks. One bullet caught Jack in the shoulder as he pushed Gwen against the wall. Henry threw himself, protectively, in front of Fish. He wanted to return fire but Hart and Ianto were on the other side of the room.  

Another bullet landed in Ianto's leg and he fell against Hart who stumbled backwards. As the Torchwood immortals shielded the mortals, the terrorists managed to escape. The last man through the hole slammed a device against his leg and dropped it into the middle of the room then turned to flee. Miranda took out a button tracking device and ran for the hole in the window and the man making his way through it. She dove for his leg and missed, the man barely escaping her hands. She swore an ancient curse and tossed the tracking device at him. It missed, rolling into the street. 

Jack’s eyes went wide. While Miranda was attempting to tag one of the terrorists, he recognised the device dropped into the middle of the room. It was a black and mauve stripped cylinder with a mauve light blinking at one end. He shouted, "CONCUSSION GRENADE!" 

He and Henry pushed Gwen and Fish out the back door and then shut it, pressing their bodies into the door. Jack attempted to shield Henry from the blast. Hart made a grab for Ianto's coat to drag him to safety but Ianto shoved off Hart's hand. He pushed Hart into the street and swung the shop's front door shut before collapsing. All four immortals were sealed inside the shop. Miranda, who had been ignoring the others’ scramble for safety, was reaching into her pocket for another tracker. The concussion grenade went off and pain lanced through her body as if she'd been tossed into a brick wall. The force from the grenade slammed her against the window frame as glass cascaded down around her. She felt some of her ribs snap. 

All the windows in the shop exploded, the frames bowed outwards. The windows of the SUV and Ianto's car also exploded as did every window for a block. The shockwave knocked those outside to the ground. A sharp ringing was all Miranda heard as she brought her hands up to her ears. They came away smeared with blood. She was lucky to still be conscious. She was standing close enough that the concussion wave should have put her out like a light for hours. She leaned out of the window and looked up and down the street. No sign of the black clad men. She uttered another ancient curse as Jack put his hand on her shoulder. Miranda whirled to defend herself. He had blood trickling out of his left ear and held up his hands to ward off her attack. Once she saw him, Miranda lowered her own hands and Jack started to speak. She couldn't hear a word. 

Trying not to shout, Miranda said, "My eardrums. I can't hear you Jack. Give me a few minutes." 

Jack fisted his hand into her shirt and dragged her towards the front door. Ianto was laying on the ground, blood weakly spurting from his leg wound even though Hart's belt was tightly wound around it. He was panting and sweating. _The femoral artery…_  

The ringing in her ears was subsiding. Again, trying not to shout, she said, "The bullet's severed the femoral artery, Jack. There's nothing I can do." 

She bent down and reached for the belt. 

"Are you mad!" Hart shouted, grabbing her hands. To Miranda it sounded muffled and far away. 

"I thought Jack explained things to you, Captain," Miranda said to him. She pointed at Jack's belt. “Henry, Ianto and I are immortals of the Game. This is not helping. Like the knife in my chest, it is prolonging his suffering. It is kinder for him to die and revive." 

Jack knelt down, gathering Ianto's weakening form into his arms. Miranda looked at him and both men nodded. Miranda undid the belt and blood began to spurt like a fountain from the wound. Fear was alight in Ianto's eyes and he panted harder. Despite being immortal, it was nearly impossible to override the body and mind’s natural instincts to fight against death. Jack was whispering soothing words to him that he couldn't hear. Miranda saw that both Ianto's ear drums had also been blown out. Ianto's body slackened. The bleeding slowed and then stopped. Miranda dug into Ianto's trouser pocket and depressed the stopwatch's button. She heard it click. Her ear drums had healed.

"Get him back to the SUV, Jack. It will take him more than half an hour to revive," Miranda said handing Jack the stopwatch. 

"Bleeding out usually takes you less than twenty, Will," Jack said as he took it from her. 

"He's young and low on the scoreboard," Miranda said. "Keep him warm. He's going to be freezing when he wakes up. Henry? Fish? Help him, please?" 

Fish, Henry and Jack loaded Ianto's body into the SUV as unobtrusively as possible, covering him to keep him hidden from view. Meanwhile, Miranda and Gwen evaluated the scene with Hart. The floor of the shop was littered with trash. There were empty crisp bags and wrappers as well as empty drink bottles, plastic and glass. The shop had no electricity or utilities and the loo was nearly overflowing. They'd left a single rucksack behind. Miranda opened it up and, after moving a discrete distance from Hart and Gwen, began going through the contents. This rucksack contained far more dangerous items than what they had taken off of their first prisoner. 

There were two more concussion grenades and three Pyraxian grenades, thankfully, with stasis locks on them. The Pyraxian grenades were notoriously volatile. The stasis locks put the grenades into a suspended animation to prevent them from going off at the slightest movement as they were prone to. There were a few extra guns and extra ammunition as well as larger amounts of that explosive they had found on the Linearist. There were a few fighting style knives. Miranda handed the rucksack off to Gwen. 

"More weapons and ammunition. Be careful, there are some Pyraxian grenades in there but they've got stasis locks on them," she warned. 

Gwen nodded and went to put the bag into the SUV. Hart was examining the litter on the ground. 

"Take a look at this, Dollface," Hart said, pointing at the ground.  

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," she said, automatically. 

She used to say it with annoyance practically dripping from her tone but Hart wondered if he was imagining the affectionate teasing he heard. She crossed over to Hart and looked at what he was pointing at - printed train and bus schedules. 

He said, waving at the ground, "Looks like they're not lone cells. These are for the train they derailed. They must have an idea what each cell before is supposed to do so they can carry out their own plans. Maybe another public transport target is next?” 

Miranda nodded and bent down, spreading the schedules out with her hands. “Would they even understand the language? Those ear buds seem to work with the spoken word only." 

"Believe it or not the Phoenician alphabet is still used in our time. We use the same numbers and they mean the same things. They’d just need to do the proper research on the time period and the language. That train’s a scrap heap. I’d say they understand,” Hart said, guessing himself. “That kid back at the Hub speaks Ekumen. It's a standardised language used throughout the Empire-”

"I know what Ekumen is, Captain," Miranda interrupted. She continued to sort the pieces of paper while crouched down. She didn’t look up from her chore as she switched to the language. "My pronunciation leaves much to be desired."

Hart couldn't help himself. He burst into hysterical laughter, completely doubled over. She was speaking the Ekumen with Jack's accent! The Boeshane Peninsula was a peninsula shaped section of star systems out on the far edge of the Great and Bountiful Human Empire, the complete arse end of nowhere. While Miranda was a lethal creature, she also displayed a poise and grace that Hart found old fashioned and charming. To hear such a polished woman speaking Ekumen with such a boorish yokel accent made him want to laugh until he pissed himself. He was laughing so hard his eyes had begun to water.

Miranda lifted her head to look up at him, her eyebrow raised. Hart was still doubled over with laughter, tears nearly running down his face. Gwen and Fish were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. 

"Something amuses you, Captain?" she asked, still in Ekumen, and Hart's laughter increased. 

Wiping his eyes, he said, "You've picked up Jack's accent!" 

Miranda's eyebrows shot up. 

"Jack’s… from this… this… backwater colony," Hart said, still laughing. He was barely able to speak. He let out a few more deep belly laughs, finally straightening. He wiped his eyes and caught his breath. 

"And your roots are more sophisticated?" she asked, sarcastically. 

"Core planet, Dollface," he said with a wink. He let out a little chuckle. "Epsilon Kanai, the heart of civilisation and refinement." 

"And may the Gods have mercy upon the human race, if you are their finest example," Miranda teased. 

Hart drew a few breaths but continued to chuckle between some of his words. He wiped at his eyes again. "You're speaking it quite well actually, aside from the accent."

"I'm out of practice. Jack doesn't like to speak it," she answered in kind, trying to mimic Hart's own accent. She returned to sorting through the papers on the floor, looking at each one in turn. 

"Better, but you're right, your pronunciation is off," Hart pointed out, "and some of the grammar as well." 

"Perhaps you will teach me," she said, not looking up from her task. 

“Be delighted to, Dollface," Hart said with a soft smile. He looked up and took in the expressions on Gwen and Fish's faces. "We're being rude." 

Miranda turned and switched back to English saying, "Sorry, you two. Let's finish up here and get back to the Hub." 

It didn't take the team long to bag and tag all the items into Torchwood evidence bags. They worked quickly since most of what they were bagging and tagging was little more than rubbish. Gwen and Fish went to load the bags into the SUV, leaving Miranda and Hart standing in the empty shop. Miranda was in the middle of the room looking around, rotating in place. 

"What are you thinking, Dollface?" Hart asked, switching back to the Ekumen. 

"I don't know," she said. "Something doesn't feel right." 

"How do you mean?" he asked, stepping towards her. 

"This felt too easy." 

"Easy?" Hart gasped. "Eye Candy's dead." 

She shook her head and waved around the room. “We're talking about a group of heavily armed terrorists here to destabilize the past, willing to commit suicide, who execute innocent bystanders unnecessarily. We should all be dead.”  

He replied, shrugging, “We got the drop on them, Dollface. They were outnumbered.”  

Miranda shook her head, still unsettled. “That patsy doesn’t make sense. Why distract us? They’re from the future. Hindsight is always twenty, twenty.”  

“What do you mean?” Hart asked, confused. 

“Our little band of terrorists are from the future. They know what’s going to happen. We don’t. Why throw us off a scent we don’t even know exists? Why make us think they’re Linearists when Torchwood wouldn’t know what that is?” 

“They might not’ve been trying to convince us they’re Linearists. They  could be convincing us his mission was nothing,” Hart said, shrugging. “They plant the information that they’re just a bunch of mischief makers who ended up in the wrong time and place. The kid says they’re dropping a few smoke bombs. That’s a horse of a different colour from shooting at people and derailing a train.” 

Miranda nodded, still feeling something was off. She arranged for Ianto's car to be towed and climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. Jack was in the SUV's boot, cradling Ianto's body in his arms. Henry was looking out the shattered window in the back with Fish’s hand in his. Hart leaned forward, putting his hand on Miranda’s seat. He continued speaking in the futuristic language. 

"You're positive about Eye Candy?" he asked.  

In the rear view mirror, she saw him cast a nervous glance to Jack with Ianto's body in his arms. He hadn’t actually seen Miranda revive, only die. Of course, she must have, she was sitting here talking to him. But, it was hard to believe someone could come back from the dead. 

“Yes, Ifan will revive. He’ll be fine." 

"Does this happen to you lot often?" Hart asked. 

“Since Ifan joined the Game, he has eased a great deal of pressure off of Jack and myself." She tried to sound casual. 

"He saved me," Hart said. There was no mistaking the surprise in his voice. 

Miranda nodded. "It is the standing orders for the immortals on the team, Captain. We protect all of you with our lives because we cannot die." 

"There's a bloody big difference between ‘not being able to die’ and that,” he said, a bit angry, jerking his head back towards Ianto. He shook his head. “Just because you aren’t as easy to permanently kill as the rest of us doesn’t mean you should play cannon fodder.” 

Miranda repeated what she’d said to Ianto once. “Being able to give our lives over and over to save others is the only gift in our curse. It is a sacrifice that we gladly make. We will not stand idly by while our immortality can prevent the death of others.” 

“Can I ask you something, Dollface?” His tone was hesitant, with curiosity on its edge. 

“I believe you just did, Captain,” she teased. 

"What’s it feel like when you come back?” he asked. 

Miranda closed her eyes and said, quietly, “Unnatural. Being pulled and ripped apart from the inside out. Like being hauled over hot broken glass.” 

The next question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, “Do you ever hope you won’t?” 

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear that was flapping in her eyes from the wind coming through the broken windows. She confessed, “Sometimes.”


	18. Chapter 18

Fish and Henry put Ianto onto the trolley and then wheeled him into Jack's office while Hart and Gwen unloaded everything into the boardroom. Jack sat on the sofa with Ianto’s head in his lap and began to wait. He vividly remembered the first time he’d done this the whole way through, from death to revival. Though Jack hadn’t been there when Ianto had revived the very first time, not a month later, Ianto and Jack had seen to a late night spike together. What had fallen through was nothing more than a paint canister but it was pressurized for completely different atmospheric conditions. The canister had exploded, sending shrapnel hurtling through the air. Jack had been too far away to protect him and a piece of the canister had imbedded itself in Ianto’s abdomen. He’d died in Jack’s arms and Jack had endured the long minutes and seconds as he’d waited for Ianto to revive. It had given him a better perspective on what Ianto had had to endure each time Jack had died. 

When Jack had first returned from the Year that Never Was, his mind had started to leap to one place after he revived - the Valiant. Reviving had become more violent, more chaotic. He woke with so much more terror. Ianto, unable to endure the sight, had started holding him as he waited to revive. Jack had scolded him for it. Now, he understood. There was no way Jack would leave Ianto here to revive alone nor would he even consider watching Ianto from across the room. 

Ianto had been immortal little over a year. He’d died numerous times but there was only so much a person could adjust to the unnatural act of coming back from the dead. The Welshman’s revivals were violent, he often thrashed as the pain and confusion of reviving took hold. Jack, whenever possible, stayed with Ianto through it all, never leaving his side. The minutes dragged and passed like hours. Jack tuned out the rest of the world while he waited for Ianto to come back to him. He looked up when he heard his office door open. 

It was Miranda. Once the boardroom table was littered with everything they’d taken out of the abandoned shop, she’d come to check on the two lovers. 

"How long has it been, Jack?" Miranda asked.

“Thirty six and change,” he said. He didn’t even look at the stopwatch. He’d stared at it since she’d handed it to him.  

“Wait with him. I’ll handle the evidence sorting,” she said. She squeezed his shoulder and turned to walk away but Jack grabbed her hand. 

“I’m sorry, Will, about before. I should’ve included you-”

“It’s fine, Jack. I understand why you didn’t want to. If I’d persuaded you to not tell the others, I would still know. I can live a long time, long enough to see this future you speak of. The more you tell me, the more likely it is that I can impact the flow of time.” She bent and kissed the top of Jack’s head. “I’m going to get everyone organised.” 

“I’ll be out once he’s awake,” Jack said, turning back to his husband. 

Miranda stepped out of Jack’s office, quietly shutting the door behind her. She called out, "Fish? Get everyone into the boardroom."

Once everyone was assembled, the table looked sparse even with Henry sitting next to Fish. Miranda spoke from her usual place at the foot of the cluttered table. "Jack is waiting with Ianto but we're at another dead end. We've flushed them out. Best case scenario? They're going to be looking for another place to bunker down while they wait to carry out their next objective. Worst case scenario? We’ve forced their hand. I know we’re all tired and I’m sorry that there’s no time for sleep right now. Gwen, we need the locals on this one. I'd also like for you to look over everything we collected from the abandoned shop with me and Captain Hart. Fish, I hate to say it but it's back to the CCTV footage for you and Henry. We need to track where they’re going. Let's go everyone."

Fish and Henry left the room while the rest of them started to sift through what they'd found at the abandoned shop. Most of it was trash but some of it could prove useful. Miranda was laying out the various weapons and other dangerous items they'd recovered, examining each one in turn. Gwen was sifting through the papers. Hart had gotten the short end of the stick, sorting through the trash. He didn’t seem to mind though. 

"Captain? Do you recognise this manufacturer mark?" she called out, pointing to a small stamp on the bottom of the concussion grenade. She was still using the futuristic language despite Gwen's presence. The former PC was engrossed in her own work, ignoring them or, more specifically, ignoring Hart.

"Dynamos Industries,” he said, rolling his eyes. Hart had heard of the rubbish manufacturer. The large conglomerate manufactured a wide array of items and its weapons were complete and utter junk but they were cheap. _You get what you pay for_ … “This grenade is a piece of crap. They're lucky it even worked.” 

"They've tried to deceive us before. We can't assume all their equipment is substandard," she replied. 

"I suppose not. Your pronunciation is getting better, Dollface." He’d been correcting her grammar as she spoke. Listening to him was also expanding her vocabulary. She’d improved quickly and had a remarkable gift for language. He wondered if he should tell her that Ekumen is actually what English turns into in three thousand years. 

She asked, playful, “And the accent?"

"Tolerable," he said with a smile and she laughed. 

Gwen rolled her eyes. Even in another language, she knew flirting when she saw it. 

Miranda’s comm unit went off. It was Jack. UNIT wanted to speak to someone and Ianto still wasn’t awake. She didn’t really want to leave Hart and Gwen alone but Torchwood was in hot water and there was no way she could ignore a call from UNIT. It would also be unwise to allow Jack to field the call while he was distracted with Ianto so Miranda excused herself from the room. 

Hart stepped back over towards the munitions and Gwen stuck to her end of the boardroom table, examining the other evidence. He tagged all the items to be properly disposed of, following the protocols he’d learned over the past few weeks. All the weapons and explosives had the Dynamos Industries’ logo on them. Under other circumstances, Hart may have elected to keep some of the items in the archive or the armory but not this trash. 

"Do you think Eye Candy's awake yet?" Hart asked, absently. 

Gwen didn't answer him. 

"I'm going to get some water, do you want anything?" Hart sighed. He wondered why he was still trying. Just as he got up, Gwen spoke.

"Don't pretend like you give a damn whether or not Ianto’s okay," she snapped. "I don't know what your game is here, Vera, but you're not fooling me." 

"No games this time,” he said. He didn’t know what he had to do to convince everyone around here he was actually being honest this time. Didn’t they get how infectious all this noble, sentimental drivel of theirs was? 

"You're a lying, murdering bastard," Gwen sneered, "and you best leave Miranda be. She doesn't need to be consorting with the likes of you." She gave Hart a mean glare. “Don’t think I don’t notice the way you look at her. She might not see it but I do.” 

Hart had had enough. He’d taken her licks because he knew he deserved them, but now, he was done. She called him a lying, murdering bastard and she was right on all accounts. There was no real way to take back the murdering bastard portion but he could work on the liar bit. “Listen, Gwen. You're right. I am a lying murdering bastard. I'm a right scoundrel and I know it. I've never been anything else because, honestly? I haven't bothered trying." 

She opened her mouth to argue but Hart cut her off, slamming his hand down onto the boardroom table.

"No, I'm talking now!” he shouted. He shook his head and lowered his voice. “Haven't you ever met someone who made you want to be better? I'm the best version of myself around her. She makes me want to be a better person, the kind of person that deserves someone like that. But don't you worry yourself, Gwen, because I'll never be good enough for the likes of her and she knows that. So how about you back the fuck off me." 

Hart spun on his heel and left the boardroom leaving a gobsmacked Gwen behind. He didn’t care if Gwen believed him or not. He didn’t care what any of them thought about him. He didn’t… 

He crossed the Hub towards the kitchen. He took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. He drank deeply, wincing a bit at the strange flavour of the processed water. He still hadn’t gotten used to it. The bottled and filtered water was better. Maybe, now that Ianto was actually giving him the time of day, he’d ask about having some water filtration installed into the Hub. It certainly was looking like he would be staying longer than he’d intended. 

Back when he'd told Jack he was going to take a look around Earth, he'd meant it. He spent quite a bit of time touring the planet, even taking a few forays into its past. He'd liked some of the people, found some of the cultures, food and drink interesting, but all in all, he'd found the place boring. He still didn't understand what Jack saw in this rock. Then he’d met Miranda Ryan. 

The cold calculating look she'd given him down the barrel of her gun had sent his heart into his throat. He had never met anyone like her in his travels on this planet. Or anywhere else for that matter. The hollow cold tone she'd used when she'd told him Gray was taken care of had had Hart's cock hard in seconds. After Jack had offered him the job and he'd had an excuse to wander about the place, he'd checked Gray's cryodrawer. She had taken care of it. 

There was a small amount of magnesium chloride solution in the line that held the cryodrawer's reversal agents. It was separated from those reversal agents by two small bubbles of air, close to where the line entered the drawer's occupant. A slight bend in the tubing hid the tampering from sight. When and if the drawer's reversal process was activated, the magnesium chloride would react with the reversal agents in the blood stream and stop the occupant's heart from restarting. Unless someone was looking for it specifically, no one would notice. Gray's death would be attributed to some failure of the cryodrawer, the reversal agents or both. 

Hart couldn't have done it better himself. He had planned to engineer some sort of failure in the drawer's power supply. That plan anyone would interpret as direct sabotage. Her solution was better. It was patient and subtle. Not only was she beautiful, but she was full of lethal cunning and deadly creativity. 

Sure, that had intrigued him but it didn’t matter. He could have found her dull as powder, he’d had no choice in coming back really. It had already happened. He’d seen it with his own eyes. This ice queen had fallen in love with him. Hart had no idea how he’d managed that, really. In fact, when he’d first gotten here, he hadn’t much liked Miranda Ryan. He’d been fascinated and intrigued, yes. He still was. But fancy her? Not that he was all poodles and two headed kittens or all that picky about who he stuck his dick into but he didn’t think this woman capable of loving anyone. He’d had absolutely no idea how he could manage to get her to care about him let alone develop feelings for her himself. What had surprised Hart the most was when he’d started to fall in love with her all on his own.

He'd watched her from a distance during this trial period Jack had given him. The woman seemed to be a contradiction in every way. He had seen her be cold yet capable of deep hearted kindness. He'd watched her anger burn white hot but had seen a gentleness. At first, Hart thought that Miranda had won the war he fought within himself every day. It didn’t take him long before he realised, Miranda hadn’t won anything. She carefully mediated the dark and the light. The dichotomy wasn't a war within her, but a careful and precarious balance. But she seemed an unattainable goal. Hart wasn’t an idiot. He could tell how repulsive she found him. At least, she wasn’t threatening him with bodily harm anymore. 

He turned as he heard the door to Jack's office swing open. Jack was walking towards the boardroom and Ianto was walking over to the kitchen. The Welshman had cleaned up and changed clothes. He didn’t look well. He was a bit paler than usual and there was a slight blue tinge to his lips. 

"Captain," Ianto said with a nod as he fixed himself a hot cup of tea. He’d found out the hard way that the more caffeinated coffee would give him a roaring headache after reviving from an exsanguination death. 

"Good to see you up and about, Eye Candy," Hart said and he meant it. He'd seen men die before, of course, quite a few of them by his own hand but this different. 

Here at Torchwood, Hart felt like he was a part of something and he hadn’t felt like that since his Time Agency days. Even though Fish was his only real friend here, he still felt like he was a part of something. The longer he stayed, the more he realised how screwed up he was and the more he regretted how he’d behaved the last few times he’d been here… and in most of his life, if he was really being honest with himself. John Hart had decided to turn over a new leaf. 

When Hart had come back, both times, he had thought he was still in love with Jack and all he could think about was getting the man back and reliving the good old days. After he'd cleaned up and thought about it, Hart realised that he didn't miss the good old days with Jack. He missed drowning himself in whatever booze, drug or body he could and he missed having someone to do it all with. Misery loving company and all that. Still, he cared about Jack and had loved him once. 

There was a time when he would’ve left Ianto bleeding and he would’ve bet real money that Ianto would do the same to him, but Hart had a feeling that time was passing. So when the light had gone out in Ianto’s eyes, Hart had actually felt something. It wasn’t really for Ianto, it was for Jack. After watching them for over two weeks now, even Hart had to admit that they were more suitably matched than he and Jack ever were. 

"Can I get you something?" Ianto asked, wrapping his hands around the hot mug. He didn’t bother blowing on the scalding liquid before he took a deep gulp. He winced a bit as the pain seared across his tongue and down his throat. He tolerated the pain, eager to get the hot liquid into him so he would heat up faster. The odd tingly sensation of burning the inside of his mouth would subside in minutes, probably before he was even finished with the tea. Another perk of his immortality. 

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Hart asked. "You're looking a bit peaky."

"No time," Ianto said. "I was about to order something from the Indian restaurant. Any special requests?" 

Hart could tell Ianto was bracing himself for the coming innuendo. "Anything vegetarian is fine, Eye Candy." 

“Spicy?” Ianto asked, purposefully baiting the former Time Agent. 

“However they usually make it,” Hart said with a shrug. 

"Are you all right, Captain?" Ianto asked, his brow furrowing with concern. 

"Fine, why do you ask?" Hart asked, sipping his water. 

"The distinct lack of sexual innuendo from this conversation," he replied. 

Ianto was slowly realising that he and Gwen were using the former Time Agent as a convenient scapegoat and target for their anger. Deep down, neither he nor Gwen had wanted to direct their feelings where they belonged for fear of inflaming Jack's already substantial guilt. Fish's scolding had cast an uncomfortable spotlight on Ianto and Gwen's treatment of Hart. True, the two of them had felt very justified in their spurning of the former Time Agent but Fish had been right, enough was enough. Ianto had no idea when Gwen would relent, but even thought Ianto was immortal he knew that life’s too short to hold onto so much anger. 

Hart shrugged. "Just tired I suppose." 

Just then Hart caught sight of Miranda walking across the Hub. His eyes followed as she walked, the boots on her feet accentuating her legs. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she went. 

Ianto followed his gaze and smiled. The look on Hart’s face was plain as day. Ianto remembered a time not all that long ago when he had a similar look on his face about Jack. When he’d stopped being so bloody angry with the man, Ianto began to notice the looks the former Time Agent was throwing in the immortal woman’s direction. The man was lovesick. Ianto never thought he'd see the day that he felt sorry for John Hart. 

"Ah, I see," Ianto said with a smile, downing the scalding hot tea. He went about putting on some coffee to brew. 

"You see what, Eye Candy?" Hart asked. 

Ianto jerked his head towards the boardroom. "Mandy."

Hart didn't meet Ianto's gaze, he just rinsed his glass and put it into the dishwasher. 

"Have you tried talking to her, John?” Ianto asked as he arranged the mugs on his tray. 

Hart was startled by the friendliness and the use of his name. Ianto always referred to him by title the same way Hart always referred to him by his nickname. He decided to return the gesture in kind. 

"Nothing to talk about, Ianto,” he said with a shrug. 

Hart couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Ianto Jones but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He said, quietly, “She’d probably dislocate my shoulder first. A woman like that is above my station.” 

The coffee pot beeped and Ianto began pouring. “I didn’t take you for a coward, John.” 

Hart narrowed his eyes in anger. He’d killed people for less. Sinking a blade into Ianto might be satisfying but not only would it be moot, it would be completely counterintuitive to this new leaf he was turning over. He concentrated on the sound of the liquid sloshing in the mugs. He said, coldly, “You don’t know me, Eye Candy.” 

“No, I don’t, but I do know her and you should talk to her,” Ianto said. He opened the fridge and took out the cream. He started fixing the coffee to everyone’s preferences. He didn’t look up as he stirred. “One thing though… Hurt her? And she'll do more than dislocate your shoulder.” 

The former Time Agent hung his head, reacting to Ianto's half-hearted warning with sadness. With a strange tone to his voice he replied, "I'm not the one it’s going to end in tears for, Eye Candy." 

Confused, Ianto watched the former Time Agent walk away.


	19. Chapter 19

Every scrap of paper, every crisp bag, every weapon… everything they’d found in the abandoned shop short of what had been overflowing from the loo was spread out across the boardroom table. It was ridiculous how much of it there was. Hart spread out the papers. He picked up a few receipts, trying to read them. He was still having trouble with written English. He passed the slips of paper to Ianto who was helping Gwen with her geographic profile. Fish and Henry were still working with the CCTV footage. Hart stood up and took off his red jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. 

At that point, Miranda caught sight of the bandage, ragged and stained with dried blood. She said, sternly, “That bandage needs changing, Captain.”

Hart shook his head. “It’s fine. Just itches a bit.” 

“It will only take a moment,” she insisted. 

Jack, hearing the dispute, craned his neck. He gave Hart a bit of a glare and said, “Let her patch you up, John.” 

Reluctantly, Hart followed Miranda into the autopsy bay. He tugged the stained t-shirt up over his head, dropping it in a pile on the table. 

“Can we hurry this up, Dollface?” he asked, impatient. 

Miranda slid the scissor under the gauze wrap and began to cut. The wound was barely two days old but it was healing well. The bruising was fading already. His scent was strong in her nose and she felt a little breathless. 

“Have you had any pain? Any numbness or tingling in your fingers? Decreased range of motion to your arm?” she asked. 

“No,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about me, Dollface.” 

She heard the smallest itch of truth in the flippant and mildly sarcastic tone. That was when she finally saw the way he was looking at her. There was a gentle hope in his eyes. He was giving her a small smile that tugged at her heart. The sudden urge to reach up and touch his face came over her. She swallowed. She’d no idea how any of this had happened, really. This man had crept under her skin without her even realising it. 

“Your trial period will be over soon,” she said, trying to be nonchalant about it. 

Trying to be as nonchalant about it as she was, Hart said flatly, “Hadn’t thought about it.” 

Miranda opened up some nonstick pads and put some salve onto them. She held them against his wounds and began bandaging around them. She swallowed past a small lump in her throat. There was no need for her to replace the bandage. She could have left the wounds uncovered but she was using it as a ruse to keep him here with her… alone. Her voice carefully neutral, she asked, “Would you like to stay on past your one month?” 

He didn’t answer her for a while. He sat there on the cold metal of the table, watching her wrap the gauze around his arm. The delicate scent of woodsmoke and jasmine was coming off of her. Her hair shined in the light. She was so radiant. A small lump formed in his throat. After she snipped the gauze and taped the end, she stepped back, waiting for an answer. She gave him a weak smile and handed him back his t-shirt. He took it from her, his fingers brushing against hers. He saw her eyes dilate at the contact. So he made a leap of faith; the first one of his life.  

“Who’s asking the question? Torchwood’s second? Or you, Miranda?” he asked, quietly. 

It was the first time he’d referred to her by name. The moment stretched between them. Miranda let go of the t-shirt, sliding her hand up onto Hart’s. She took a leap of her own. 

“I’m asking,” she answered. 

“I knew you’d come round eventually,” Hart said, with a self satisfied tone.

“Liar,” she teased, smiling. 

Hart reached up, brushing his fingers down he cheek. He leaned at the same moment she did. Before his lips could reach hers… 

“Hey Evie…” Fish trailed off as he took in the awkward scene. _Oops…_ He cleared his throat and blushed. He said, “Gwen’s found something. It’s a badge for Welsh Water. We think it’s their next target. You said they sometimes interrupted utilities, John.” 

The moment had imploded. There was nothing in the void between Hart and Miranda than awkwardness. She turned away from Hart and reached for her sword. “Who’s car this time?” 

“Mine. Everyone’s heading down to the garage now,” Fish said as Miranda ran past him. Hart was still putting his t-shirt back on. Fish waited for him and the two went to the garage together. He gave Hart a look of apology that was ignored. 

The drive to the water plant was quick, it wasn't far from the Hub. Fish took out his handheld scanner as they all gathered by the front entrance. There was a van hopped up onto the kerb. Ianto and Henry approached it, guns raised. After a nod from Ianto, Henry opened the van's back door, it was empty. 

"This van was reported stolen earlier today, Jack," Gwen said as she read the display from her PDA. “About half an hour after we stormed the shop.” 

Hart was already fiddling with his wrist strap as he approached the doorway. He held the main door open as everyone piled inside. 

“Excuse me!” the guard shouted. 

“Torchwood,” Jack said, holding up his hand. “Anyone been through here you haven’t recognised?” 

He jerked his hand over his shoulder. “Routine maintenance team went downstairs about ten minutes ago without a repair request. Why?” 

Hart reached for the fire alarm, breaking the glass and pulling on the lever. He turned towards Fish, “Make sure the locals don't get that.” 

“Oi! You can’t do that!” the guard shouted. 

Ianto started making the appropriate phone calls. “We may still need local police and fire wardens." 

Fish caught only half of what the Ianto said after that, something about faulty alarm systems, he was possibly already concocting a cover story. Ianto was a master at Torchwood's creative PR. Fish brought up a few floor plans. "Jack? Through those doors, down the hallway at the end, the door on our right is a staircase. There are two levels beneath us.” 

Jack pointed at the guard and then the door. “Evacuate the building. Which way did that maintenance team go?”

The guard pointed at the door to his left. “Downstairs somewhere. I don’t know. There’s nothing else down that hall.” 

"Right. Ianto, Fish and I will take the first basement. Henry, Will, Gwen and John? You four take the second one down. You find anything, you radio for backup. These guys don't care about collateral damage. Got it?"

Everyone nodded and they all took off down the hallway, drawing their weapons. They ignored the stunned look of the workers who passed them, exiting the building. Fish felt the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he, Ianto and Jack burst through the door of the first basement level while the others continued descending. It was dim, there seemed to be only emergency lighting. 

"Fish? Take right, Ianto, left. I'll go down the middle. Stay on comms," Jack said, aiming his Webley in front of him and advancing slowly. 

The room was hot and humid. There was nothing but pipes and large tanks. It was a typical factory basement. Fish wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. The trio of men had barely gotten halfway down the room when the distant sound of gunshots echoed up the stairway. Fish heard Jack shouting through his comm piece but soon, he hadn’t needed it. Jack’s voice rose with each name to a shout. 

“What's going on guys? Gwen? Will? Somebody answer me! Henry? John? Talk to me! NOW!"

There was nothing but the sound of Ianto's dress shoes and Jack's boots on the concrete as the three of them raced for the stairway door and down the stairs to the next level. Fish was nearly in a panic about Henry. Desperate to reach his lover, he reached for the door handle about to yank it open. Jack put his hand up on the door, stopping him from opening it. He put his finger to his lips and shifted in front of him. 

“You know the rules, Fish,” he whispered. 

The two immortal men moved in front of him. After four years in Torchwood, he still hated it. Over the years, he'd lost count as to how many times he owed his life to Jack and Miranda. In the months since Ianto had become immortal, Fish now owed his life to the Welshman dozens of times over and Fish had cut back on his field time. Nearly every time one of the immortal team members had saved his life, they had been fatally wounded in the process. 

Suddenly, Miranda's voice was in his ear. “There’s four. John's hit. The Duke-”

Miranda's voice abruptly stopped as the sound of another gunshot rang out through the air, leaving no question as to what happened to his teammate.

The two immortals advanced into the room slowly, their guns drawn and raised. While they took the risks, they were far from brazen about it. The immortals all knew that they could protect no one if they were waiting to revive. Once the two men were a few meters inside the room, Fish followed, his own gun raised. He swallowed convulsively as he saw Henry’s legs jutting out from between two large tanks. No sooner had he crossed the doorway than a shot rang out and Jack crumpled to the ground. Ignoring his fallen lover, Ianto aimed and fired. The alien, a humanoid, dressed head to toe in the now familiar black tactical gear took cover, disappearing from view. 

Fish took cover behind a small tank. Years as a field operative had taught him to control his fear and suppress his impulses. The strongest impulse was his desire to run straight for Henry. It was another standing protocol. If one of the immortal team members is injured or killed, abandon them. A low groan escaped Jack's lips. _Jesus… he's still alive…_ He tore his eyes away from Jack, trying to ignore the painful moans and gurgling sounds coming from the man as he died. He saw Ianto continuing to advance slowly, seeking occasional cover. Seeing no threat, he moved forward to the next tank, ducking behind it. 

A scraping noise behind him caught his attention, Fish whirled around, saw the black clad figure raising its own weapon at him. Fish aimed and fired… and missed, hitting the alien being in the shoulder. A howl escaped its lips… It was a high pitched sound unlike any he'd ever heard. The being dropped back a few steps, reaching down for something strapped to its leg. Fish didn't hesitate, he took aim again and fired, the bullet entering the alien's head. It fell to the ground with a thud. _Three…_

His experience allowed him to take only a few deep breaths before continuing to advance. He moved behind the next storage tank and tapped his comm piece and whispered, "Three, there are three…" 

He heard a harsh inhale of breath. _Evie!_ He dropped to his knees, crouching to look under the storage tank. He saw her on the concrete floor at the base of the next storage tank, laying in a pool of blood trying to get to her feet. He crossed over to her quickly.

"Evie? You-" he stopped, looking down at whatever his trainers were sticking in and immediately regretted it. Beneath the rubber soles of his trainers he had felt the crunch of bone and the squish of blood. They had shot her in the head. He swallowed at the macabre sight. "Jesus Christ, Evie…" 

She'd already hauled herself to her feet. The hair above her ear was bloody. 

"Shhh!" she warned, waving him behind her. The slide of her gun was all the way back, she was out of ammunition. She tossed the empty gun aside and reach into her coat, drawing her sword. Another gunshot rang out and Miranda threw her arm across his chest, pressing him into the tank. Ianto's voice came over the comm. 

“Three still… Jack-" And then another gunshot rang out. Fish didn't hear the other team member over the comms. He assumed Ianto was down as well. The sound of scraping was coming towards them. 

"Stay here, Fish," she ordered, stepping boldly out into the aisle. He didn't even get a chance to give her his gun. There was the dull thud of fists and Fish couldn't stay hidden in the shadows. He peered around the edge of the tank and saw Miranda grappling with one of the black clad figures. She'd ripped the alien's mask off. His skin was a mottle of olive green and a teal blue. He was almost reptilian in appearance, his nose two slits on his face. Her sword was laying on the ground.

There was another terrorist laying sprawled on the floor. He was completely human looking. Fish hooked his toe under the blade and kicked the sword into the air.

"Evie!" he shouted as she punched her assailant. 

She twisted and caught the sword in time to press it to the reptilian’s throat just as he aimed his weapon at Fish. The slight delay had allowed the prone human terrorist to draw his own weapon, stand and point it straight at Miranda's back. The adrenaline singing in his veins, Fish pressed his gun to that man’s head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate," he ordered. Fish narrowed his eyes at the alien Miranda was restraining and said, "Welcome to Earth. Lesson number one? This is what we call a Mexican standoff." 

"Throw down," Miranda snapped. 

After a few seconds and a shared glance with Fish, Miranda said, "I don't have time for this twaddle." 

Fish had never seen anyone move so fast. He could barely follow what happened. With lightning speed and precision, Miranda slit the alien's throat with her sword, the cut going all the way back to its spine. Hot green blood spurted and the blade continued to arc backwards, twisting in Miranda's skilled hands. Fish heard the steel slicing through the air as Miranda sank the blade into the human terrorist’s chest. She pushed down on the hilt, causing the blade to slice downward into his abdomen and then she brought her leg up, kicking him off the sword. The minute his body hit the ground, she took off running, blood dripping from the blade. Fish barely had time to register what had happened. He back and forth between both bodies and that Fish noticed the still form of Captain John Hart out of the corner of his eye. He brought his head up. Hart was laying in a pool of blood with Gwen hovering over him. Her hands were coated in blood as she applied pressure to Hart’s wounds. Fish bolted in their direction. 

Miranda nodded to the other woman and the two of them grabbed Hart by the coat, dragging him between some tanks to relative safety. Gwen jerked her head towards the hallway and held up one finger. 

"I don't have a signal… I can't call for an ambulance," Fish said fumbling with his mobile. 

"You can’t. The building isn’t secure. There’s still one more,” Miranda whispered. “We don’t know what their objective is, Fish. They could be trying to blow up the building.” 

"Fine, we'll get him upstairs. Help me with him," Fish said, trying to seize Hart under the arms.

"No, Fish," Miranda said stopping him. She pressed his hands onto the wound. "Gwen and I need to pursue the terrorist. Apply pressure and stay with him."

"I'm a chemist, not a doctor, Evie!" Fish gasped.

“The last one went down that hallway. Gwen and I have to pursue him. I can't stay here. We must neutralise the threat,” Miranda said, starting to stand. "Gwen? Let's go." 

"What if he gets worse?" Fish said, grabbing Miranda by the sleeve. "I'm not going to know what to do! He could die!" 

He saw the pain and grief in her eyes as she turned to him. "Yes, he could… and may the Gods guide him to the afterlife." 

Fish remembered the moment he interrupted. He’d seen how Hart had looked at Miranda and he saw the mad way they behaved around each other. Fish’s own lover was laying dead not ten feet away but Henry would revive. Hart wouldn’t. Now Miranda, the only one of them with any significant medical training, had to abandon their critically injured team member. Fish watched her face harden and her eyes turn to ice as Miranda turned away and left him with Hart, taking Gwen with her. 

The two women turned a corner, heading in the direction Gwen had seen the last terrorist flee down. One of the doors down the corridor was swinging open. Miranda looked into the doorway, seeing the clear plastic pipes. The alien had just finished hooking up some manner of device around one of those pipes. 

"Don't move!" Miranda shouted, using Ekumen. She turned the corner with her gun drawn with Gwen on her heels. 

The alien ignored them, completely focused on his task. He continued to tap on the device's control panel, trying to complete what he’d started before they could stop him. Miranda, not willing to repeat herself, nodded at Gwen, who took careful aim and fired. Her bullet landed in his leg and with a squeal, he crumpled to the ground. The device was now out of his reach. 

"Not a good listener are you," Gwen sneered. 

They approached, Miranda examining the device while Gwen put the plastic restraints on their prisoner. "Gwen? Go and trade places with Fish. I need him to look at this."

Gwen disappeared back out of the hallway. Miranda knew Hart was bleeding to death. She didn't have long to ensure the situation was under control so she could see to his care. If this took too long, Hart would die. She dropped to her knees and tugged his face mask off. He looked mostly human save for the slight greenish hue to his face. He appeared to have no hair whatsoever, not even eyebrows or eyelashes. 

"I know you can understand me so I'm going to ask you some questions that you are going to answer," she said, returning to English. Though Hart had been teaching her, she still hadn’t mastered the futuristic language and she didn’t want him to misunderstand her. 

"Your interrogation methods are useless," he spat. "I have been trained against your questions."

"Oh, I'm not the police. I am Torchwood and I am a hundred other names that would make you quake in your shoes,” Miranda said. She leaned in and sniffed next to the man's ear. “I smell fear on you. You men from the future - spineless weaklings. Where is your mettle?"

She reached down and dug her thumb into the bullet wound and the man howled. The stench of fear thickened. It’s said that smell is the most powerful memory trigger. Miranda remembered deep into her past, thousands of years ago, when that same stench had hung thick through the acrid smell of burning wood and the sweet metallic tang of blood. It had been like a fragrant perfume. Like a child’s laughter, the Horseman deep within her bubbled up to the surface. 

It wanted to play. 

“Ah, the music you make… let's see if we can't produce more notes from you." Miranda dug the dagger out of her boot. Carefully aiming to avoid his major vessels, and plunged it into his other leg and he screamed. "You're off key…" 

She twisted the blade slowly and the man screamed louder, the pitch changing. "Better. Now, down to business. Question number one… how many of these devices are there?" 

When she didn’t receive an answer, she put the tip of her finger on the end of the dagger's hilt and wiggled the blade back and forth. He didn’t answer her, only screamed. “I dislike repeating myself.” 

She stopped wiggling the blade, pinching the hilt between her thumb and forefinger. She twisted while slowly pressing downwards. 

"JUST THIS ONE!" the man screamed between clenched teeth. 

"Excellent," Miranda said. She removed the small finger blade from her belt and began picking at her cuticle with it. “And how many were in your unit?" 

“Thirteen,” the man gasped. 

"And where are they now?"

"You have one, the dupe of a kid. The others are dead,” the man said. “Just us.” 

“Actually… just you,” Miranda said with a smug smile. She used the small blade to slice through the straps holding his body armour in place, one at a time. “Is there more to come? Or is this the end of your plans?” 

The man said nothing. 

“And we were having such quality conversation,” she said with a sigh. She leaned back and furrowed her brow, deciding. She quirked her mouth into a half smile, making a careful selection. She seized his ear lobe and sliced it off with the finger blade. The man screeched and thrashed. She flicked the piece of flesh from her fingers onto the floor. 

She said, “Perhaps that will improve your hearing. Is this the last of your plans?”

“YES!” he shouted through clenched teeth. 

Miranda heard footsteps in the doorway and she turned to see Fish gaping at her. She gave him a look that told him to keep silent about what he saw. Fish swallowed and did his best to look impassive. He moved into the room to peer at the device attached to the pipe. 

"What does this device do?" Miranda asked pointing up at it. When he didn’t answer her immediately, she seized his chin, holding the blade level with his eye. She waved it back and forth slightly with each word, speaking as if to a stubborn child. “Do not make me repeat myself." 

"It deposits _vibrio cholerae_ into the water supply," he said. Sweat was beginning to pour down his face. 

"Cholera?! You want to give the entire city of Cardiff cholera? You swine!" Miranda backhanded the man. "How do we remove it?"

"We have some demands," the man sneered. 

“And what about this,” she said with a slight chuckle, waving her blade between them, “says you are in a position to make demands?” 

Miranda yanked the dagger from the man's leg and then hooked her finger into his mouth, pulling out his cheek. With a sing of steel, she sliced through his cheek. He screamed and fell backwards, flailing on the ground. Blood poured from the facial wound. He coughed a few times, spraying blood into the air. 

"A history lesson for you. That is half of a Glasgow smile. Tell me how to remove the device and you will not receive the second half. If you don't tell me how to remove that device, the only thing you will be demanding from me is a swifter death.” 

Miranda shoved the point of the blade into his face but the man's mouth remained shut. She leaned her knee onto his bullet wounded leg and he screamed. She used the opportunity to slide the blade into the other side of his mouth. His scream abruptly stopped and the man froze with fear. She held it there for a moment, once again looking at him like an impatient parent waiting on a naughty child. She grabbed his chin with her free hand.

"I am at the end of my tether," she said, icily. This time, she angled the blade and it slowly cut into the corner of his mouth while she held his face still. The man screamed and tried to struggle. 

Fish watched on, horrified, as it took Miranda nearly a full minute to make the entire cut. He was doing his best to not react to the brutality but he could tell the blood had drained from his face. He’d seen her behave ruthlessly before, sometimes bordering on cruel, but never anything like this. He felt his stomach turn. She was enjoying herself. He remembered what Tom had said to him once… _The only other person who made the hair stand up on the back of my neck like her was some guy we caught eating his mother bit by bit from his fucking freezer…_

She leaned back, tilting her head. “Slightly uneven. Shall we correct it?” 

The man merely panted from the ground. He sobbed as he tried to back away from her, kicking his legs against the floor. 

"Isn't hypovolemia a fascinating thing?" she said leaning down. "There are four stages… In stage one you barely notice, your vasculature constricts and your pallor and vital signs are normal. In stage two, that isn't enough and you can no longer maintain your cardiac output. Your heart starts to race. Your breathing increases. You start to sweat and feel anxious and restless; all signs that mimic an adrenaline rush but in fact it's your body's sympathetic nervous system screaming that you're slowly dying… Ponder it." 

After digging his translating bud out of his ear, Miranda stood up. She transitioned seamlessly, calmly asking Fish, “Can you remove this thing?" 

She tapped at her comm unit to activate it. He still didn’t answer her and she repeated, "Fish?" 

He looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. He cleared his throat, trying to tune out the sobbing man at his feet. "No, I think it's booby trapped. If I try to remove it, it's going to go off."

"Jack? Henry? Anyone?" Miranda said. 

"Miranda? Vera doesn't look so good," Gwen said in her ear. 

Miranda took that information in, feeling the rage bubble up inside her. She knew where to use it… the piece of meat on the floor. “We're all clear, Gwen. There are no more terrorists in the building. Fish and I are working on neutralising the current threat. When someone revives, have them call an ambulance for Captain Hart. Send one of them down here with my medical kit… if possible. Ryan out."

She turned to Fish and indicated the clear plastic pipe the device was attached to. "What about the pipe? What if we cut around it?"  

"I don't know. We may not have time. I can’t tell when it’s supposed to go off,” Fish said. “We need to alert the public.” 

"The message won't get out to everyone in time. Cholera is a gruesome and horrific way to die. It will devastate the young and the old. There will be chaos. Stores will run out of bottled water and people will panic… rioting… social disorder…" Miranda said. She pressed her mouth into a thin line. "Let me try our friend again."

Fish grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the door and into the hallway. He understood he couldn’t undermine her position with their prisoner but he wasn’t going to walk away while she tortured this man, possibly to death. “Evie, this is sick. You're torturing him."

"Yes, I am," she said, simply, "and when I'm done with him. I am going to kill him."

"Evie!" Fish said. 

"Don't, Joe," she snapped and he recoiled at the sound of his name from her mouth. "This man can never face twenty first century justice nor can we send him back to his own time to face justice there. Torchwood dispenses its own justice… and so do I.” 

She went back into the room and knelt. She dropped the bud into the man's ear. "I hope your biology lesson was enlightening." 

"Fuck you," he spat. The words were slurred from the deformed mouth. 

"Wow, over two thousand years and they still have 'fuck you'. I suppose that like the great white shark, the best don't need to evolve," she smiled. She sighed, disappointed. “This has been fun and I have enjoyed reliving the more sordid aspects of my past but I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to you anymore." 

Miranda picked up her dagger again. "Now, answer me true and I will spare your life." 

"And if I don't?"

Miranda flashed him a cruel smile. "I'm guessing you have enough medical or biological knowledge to know what will happen if I bury this dagger into your belly avoiding your vital organs and vessels… perhaps nicking your bladder." 

The man shivered and terror flashed across his face. 

"Belly wounds are quite painful. The intestines are so full of nerves. The urine will scald your internal organs. Bacteria from your gut will colonise, feeding on the urea. Septicemia will set in followed by multi system organ failure," she said, tracing the tip of the dagger along the man's belly, "but that will take time. You will smell your insides rotting long before the fever consumes your wits." 

Miranda paused for dramatic effect, tilting her head at the man. "I await your answer at the earliest convenience, which, in case you were wondering, is now." 

"You need to remove the bacterial cartridge," he said, his voice shaking. 

Miranda stopped Fish from reaching for the panel. "I'll do it, Fish. I don't want you to risk infecting yourself get back upstairs and see to Captain Hart." 

Fish fled the room, glad to leave the appalling scene. Miranda thought she heard the faint sound of retching as he fled. 

"Now what?" she asked after she'd opened the panel. She scrutinised the man's face, watching his every movement.

"The cartridge isn't meant to be manually ejected. You need to cross wire the circuit to open the access panel and then you'll have to cut the tubes. Cut the green wire and the purple wire then splice them to each other," he said. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. She saw nothing but fear and pain. With care, she sliced through both wires with her dagger. After she stripped the insulation, she carefully spliced them and waited. A red light on the device went off and another panel slid open. She bent forward and peered in. There was a small white cylinder with a powdered material in it. There was a clear tube on either end. She used her finger blade to slice through the tubing and removed the cylinder. 

Just as she started to examine it, Jack came around the corner, carrying Miranda's medical kit. He looked at the bleeding man and then Miranda and cocked an eyebrow. 

"Everything under control here, Will?"

"It is now, correct?" she asked looking down at the black clad man. 

The man nodded and started to cry. 

"Your cooperation has been appreciated," Miranda said. She took her medical case from Jack and opened it. She depositing the cylinder into a sealed bag and then plunged a syringe of morphine into the bleeding man's thigh. She wrapped a tourniquet around each of his his legs and started fluids. She even placed a basic bandage around his head, to staunch the bleeding from the facial wounds. 

"That should help with the pain. You can turn him over to UNIT, Jack. I don't know if there is more intelligence we can extract from him," she said, leaving the room.

Jack followed her out into the hallway, out of earshot. "You know I don't mind a little strong arming, Will, but that?”

"I got the job done, Jack," she snapped. 

"By torturing him?" he asked. 

Miranda narrowed her eyes at him. Jack's own past was far from laudable. "Would you like for me to fill out an authorisation form next time?" 

"Will-" 

"The device was already hooked into the water supply. Goddess below, do you know how many people it would have killed had it gone off?" 

"You know these methods are a last resort," Jack said. “Ends and means, Will.”

"We were there, Jack. I wasn't being indulgent," she said. "There wasn't time."

"You mean John didn't have time," Jack countered. He added quickly when he saw the look on Miranda's face. "He's still alive. The ambulance left a few minutes ago."

She was about to open her mouth when he pointed his finger in her face. "Don't. Go take care of him. And you get your head on straight, Will. We've all got this.”


	20. Chapter 20

Miranda strode through University hospital. After some resistance from hospital staff, she had flashed her Torchwood credentials and demanded to see their chief of surgery. Miranda was an immortal of the Game and she understood how it was played. And that went for any game, the game of interrogating a prisoner or the game of hospital politics. 

"Doctor Ryan?" the man said, striding towards her. He looked at her blood matted hair with alarm. “Are you all right? Doctor Dafydd Llewellyn." 

“It was superficial,” she lied. “My apologies, Doctor Llewellyn, I know you were giving an intern lecture," she said, extending her hand. She didn't bother stroking the man's ego or offering false platitudes. She sized Llewellyn up immediately. He was a true surgeon, a person of action who got down to business. 

"I hope that a courtesy extended to Torchwood could be returned in the future," he said, taking the offered hand, shaking it firmly. 

"Of course, Doctor Llewellyn. One of our agents was injured earlier, a GSW to the upper right quadrant of the chest. He’s in your operating theatre now," she said.

"Do you require access to the theatre? You are a medical doctor?" the man said, waving down the hallway. 

"I am, Doctor Llewellyn. I’m licensed to practice medicine in the UK but do not have credentials with the hospital and Doctor Foster was already in surgery by the time I arrived. I’ve been unable to relay my information. Captain Hart has some uniqueness in his anatomy and physiology that are non-pathologic but can be misinterpreted to possibly disastrous effect," Miranda said nervously. 

"Walk with me, Doctor Ryan, and speak quickly," the man said, walking Miranda down the hallway that led to the observation area for the surgical theatre. 

"He has an anatomically normal and non-pathologic enlargement of his heart as well as significant bradycardia and hypotension. These unique features are normal for the captain,” she said. She prayed that the surgeon operating on Hart hadn’t already misinterpreted his low heart rate and low blood pressure. 

"I take it both are low enough that a doctor would want to correct them?" Llewellyn asked. 

"Yes, but they will be unresponsive," she said as they increased their pace. "Captain Hart's normal body temperature is thirty eight degrees Celsius. He also has anatomic variations to his spleen and liver, also non-pathologic." 

"He sounds like a unique individual, Doctor Ryan," the other doctor said, pausing at the observation theatre. 

"He is," she said.

"Doctor Ryan, I mean no offence. You seem to care about this man a great deal," Llewellyn said giving her an appraising look. "I'm afraid I need you to wait out here."

"I am Torchwood's physician, Doctor Llewellyn. Captain Hart is under my-" Miranda began hotly. 

"I understand, Doctor Ryan," he interrupted, "I will be having Doctor Foster consult with you but I can’t allow you to be in direct control of the Captain's care."

Before she could protest, Llewellyn pushed through the door to the observation area and Miranda heard him speaking through the intercom. After a few minutes, Llewellyn emerged from the observation room. 

"I've advised Doctor Foster of what you have just told me, Doctor Ryan. It is good that you intervened. The surgery is going well but Doctor Foster was already attempting to correct the bradycardia and the hypotension. Do you know the Captain's normal values?"

"I've seen a resting heart rate from Captain Hart as low as twenty four. I've seen a systolic blood pressure as low as forty," she said. 

Llewellyn raised his eyebrows. "Those are dangerously low numbers, Doctor Ryan." 

"I know but I assure you, they’re normal for the Captain," she said. 

“I’ll arrange for you to be with your partner in the recovery room and the intensive care unit," Llewellyn said. "I appreciate your professionalism, Doctor Ryan. I know Torchwood has autonomy and you could’ve gone about this different especially since a loved one is involved." 

"I and Torchwood appreciate your understanding, Doctor Llewellyn." she said. 

"The procedure will take a few more hours, I believe. You may observe, Doctor Ryan or you can wait. Use the doctor's lounge if you like," he said. 

Miranda nodded and took out her mobile said, "The doctor's lounge is fine. I need to speak with my colleagues." 

After Llewellyn left her in the doctor's lounge, Miranda sat down in a corner off by herself and used her mobile to call Jack.

"Harkness," he said.

"It's me, Jack."

"How is he?" 

"In surgery, which I've been told is going well."

"You're not in there with him?" Jack exclaimed. "You're a surgeon."

"He's having a thoracotomy, Jack. They're inside his chest. I haven't performed a surgery like that in years. I'd go so far as to say I'm no longer qualified. The doctors here are more than capable of taking care of him. I'm consulting on the case. What is the situation at the water plant?"

"We're all fine. Three terrorists are dead, UNIT is doing the xenopsies. The prisoner’s in UNIT custody, still being treated.”  

"Leave off, Jack," Miranda snapped. 

"This isn't over, Will," Jack said.  

"Yes, sir," she relented. She knew she had gone too far with their prisoner but, in truth, she didn't care. She could have used softer methods but they would have taken time that Hart didn't have. It was possible she'd taken too long already. 

"Ianto's putting the cover together. Colonel Ashline wants to meet with us at the Hub. I don’t know if we’re in the clear yet."

"Can you send Ifan here when he's finished? I'm unarmed. I’ll ring when Captain Hart is out of surgery." 

Miranda rang off and tossed the mobile on the table in front of her. She buried her face in her hands, glad that the rest of the team was safe and the situation contained. They were all exhausted. Miranda raised her hand to her forehead, it was throbbing slightly. She had forgotten she had received a bullet to the head not more than a few hours ago. It had clipped her skull, just above her ear but the wound had still been fatal. She looked into the locker room attached to the doctor's lounge and decided to take a quick shower. 

Once she was clean, she redressed and sat back down on a sofa to wait. She closed her eyes for a moment against the headache and woke when she felt someone touching her shoulder. 

"Doctor Ryan?" the woman asked. 

"Doctor Foster, my apologies… what time is it?" Miranda said, looking around. Someone had draped her coat over her.

"It's nearly two in the afternoon." 

Miranda's eyes widened. She'd fallen asleep and had been asleep for nearly six hours. "Captain Hart's condition?"

"He's in our pulmonary intensive care ward," Foster said. "I'll update you as we walk."


	21. Chapter 21

Miranda was sitting in the chair beside Hart's bed. The dull hiss of the ventilator and the beep of the heart monitor went on in the background. She took Hart's hand in hers. The bullet they'd removed from his chest had been meant for Gwen's head. The former Time Agent had reacted quicker than Miranda. He’d propelled himself into the bullet's path much to Gwen's own shock. The bullet had severed a major vein in his chest and severely damaged one of his lung lobes. The bleeding had collapsed his lung and put pressure on his heart. The surgeons had had to remove the lung lobe and repair the significant vascular damage. Hart had lost a great deal of blood and had stopped breathing before the surgery and twice afterwards. They now had a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him. Miranda still wasn't sure how his body would react to the several units of twenty first century blood they had had to transfuse into him.

She stroked Hart’s hand, feeling the smooth hot skin. Suddenly there was a pressure between her temples. _By the Gods, I hope that is Ifan…_ she thought as she dropped Hart's hand and scrubbed at her face. A few seconds later, the curtain was drawn back and Ianto was standing there with a cylindrical black case, gaping at Hart. Miranda knew her sword was inside. She took it from him and leaned it against the bed. She tapped her mobile phone, activating the noise killing app. 

"Any new developments at the water plant?" Miranda asked. 

“UNIT is finishing there now under our direction.” His voice was stiff and formal. 

"Any more information out of our prisoner?" she asked.

Ianto's eyes darkened. "They're still treating his injuries." 

"Gwen's bleeding heart must be catching…" she said sarcastically. 

“I thought you put the Horsemen behind you, Mandy,” he said, snapping at her a bit. 

She shook her head. “It is never behind me. I already have plenty of blood on my hands, what’s a little more? I used to do it because I enjoyed it. It was fun. Now? I do it because I can. Sometimes the ends don’t justify the means but sometimes those means are the only way. I let it blacken my soul because there is no redemption for me. Would you have done what was necessary, Ifan? Could Fish? Or Gwen?” 

Whenever a hard choice needed to be made or a trigger needed to be pulled, it was always Miranda stepping up to do the job. She didn't look up at Ianto once. Her face remained downcast, staring at Hart’s immobile hand. He didn't say anything, just stood there with his arms hugging his own chest, his eyes staring at his shoes. He couldn’t believe someone had managed to one up Jack on a martyr complex. He’d successfully chipped away at Jack’s, slow bit by slow bit. Miranda was his friend but the idea of beginning to chip away at hers was daunting. She’d had thousands of years to build hers up. He decided to pick and choose his battles and changed the subject. 

"UNIT is coordinating with us. I just came by to give you your sword and collect you. Colonel Ashline is coming to the Hub for a debriefing."

Miranda looked to Hart. 

"We've set up a rota. Gwen’s coming to relieve you for the meeting," Ianto said. 

 _Gwen?!_ was Miranda's incredulous thought. She barely had time to wrap her head around the idea when Gwen pulled back the curtain. The former PC blanched at the sight. Hart was on his back, tubes and monitoring equipment everywhere. Gwen couldn't stop staring at the ventilator as it worked. 

"Oh my God…" she gasped. "Is he going to die?"

Miranda felt her heart constrict at the idea. "We don't know. The next twenty four hours are critical." 

The nurses were casting the three of them nervous looks. 

"Ifan? Let's go. We're making the staff jumpy. Gwen? They have my mobile. They are to call me for even the slightest change or question." 

Gwen nodded as she settled into the chair next to Hart's bed. Once Ianto and Miranda were out of sight, Gwen sighed and shook her head. She still couldn’t believe what Hart had done. This wasn’t like when he’d pulled Fish to safety. Hart had shouted her name as a warning. He hadn’t thought. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d just… leapt in front of her. Gwen had thought he was about to attack her. She’d started to raise her arms to defend herself that was until she’d seen Hart laying on the floor, clutching at his chest. The blood seeping through his fingers had startled her, stunned would’ve been a better word actually. Her mind had refused to believe it. Had this bastard just taken a bullet for her? 

For a split second, Gwen had wanted to just leave him there. _Let him bleed to death_ … an evil part of her brain had snickered. The image of Tosh laying bleeding to death, exactly the same way, had filled her mind. Gwen had remembered the split second of fear on Tosh’s face as she’d realised it was the end… but then she’d remembered the peace. It’d been at that moment Gwen had noticed the peace on Hart’s face. His head had been turned at an awkward angle, an angle that must have been excruciating given his injury. He’d been watching Miranda and Gwen had recognised that look too. It was the same way that Rhys looked at her. 

At that moment, Gwen had dropped to her knees, yanked his red jacket aside and ripped the stained t-shirt open. She’d watched, as the blood bubbled from the wound, foaming out of it. She’d ripped off her jacket and balled it up, pressing it into the wound, hard. Hart had yelped out of pain and surprise. He’d tried to speak but couldn’t. He’d kept trying to twist his head, searching for Miranda with his eyes. She’d seized Hart’s face, twisting him to look at her and had shouted at him, _Do you think I want to be indebted to the likes of you? Live. If not to prove me wrong than for her._

She patted Hart’s hand and said quietly, "Maybe I was wrong about you, Vera…"


	22. Chapter 22

The minute Ianto and Miranda appeared in the main Hub from the garage's hallway, Jack jogged over to them. "How is he?"

"He's not good, Jack. Call everyone into the boardroom I'll update you all there," Miranda said. 

"We were waiting on you two," Jack said. He turned to his husband and in a delicate tone said, “Go on, Yan. Give us a minute."

Ianto frowned at Miranda and left them alone. Jack waited for him to disappear towards the boardroom, leaving him and his second in command a measure of privacy. 

“When this is over, you're suspended. One week," Jack said, holding up one finger. 

"What?!" Miranda roared. "You can't be serious!" 

"Do I look like I'm kidding around here?" he snapped. "Fish told me everything. I saw the prisoner. You crossed a line, Will."

"I got the job done, Jack! Have you ever seen someone die from cholera?" 

"That wasn't your reason, Will," he snapped. "What you did back there? That was personal. I've seen your work before." 

"My motivations-" she began but Jack shouted over her. 

“This is _not_ a discussion! Now you've earned yourself another week on suspension and another week of desk duty. Keep it up and I'll have you mucking out the Weevil cells for a month!" Jack yelled, pushing his face into hers. Pointing across the Hub, he snarled, “Shut up and get yourself in that boardroom! Now!"

Miranda swallowed her pride and her anger and submitted to Jack's authority. She cast her eyes down and nodded. She didn’t want to admit it just yet but he was right. The two immortals crossed the main Hub and entered the boardroom and took their usual seats. Colonel Ashline was in Gwen's vacant chair at Jack's left.

"Colonel, it is good to see you again. I wish the circumstances were better," Miranda said, still trying to shake off Jack's lashing. 

"As do I, how is your man?" he asked. 

Miranda coloured slightly though she knew the Colonel didn't intend for the reference. "Thank you for your concern, Colonel. Captain Hart's condition is still unstable and currently his prognosis is guarded. He's in the pulmonary intensive care ward. They had to remove one of his lung lobes. He is unable to breathe on his own and is on a ventilator. He's lost a great deal of blood. The next twenty four hours will be critical for him."

She decided not to mention the concerns of the doctors had about Hart's extended lack of oxygen post operatively. Hart may not wake up at all and if he did, there may be brain damage. Miranda needed to speak with Jack later about whether or not the former Time Agent had some sort of advanced directive. 

"What is the situation with our prisoner, Colonel?" Miranda asked, coldly, as she took her seat.

"He has been cooperating thoroughly, Doctor Ryan. Captain Harkness has informed me that their overall agenda was to destabilise Torchwood and UNIT. That is consistent with what our prisoner has told us," the Colonel said. 

"Have you performed postmortems on the other terrorists?" Miranda asked.

"They're in progress now," Martha Jones replied, not willing to look in Miranda's direction. 

"Fish? You want to tell us what you learned from the device?" Jack asked.

Fish rose and started to speak, "It was on a plastic pipe that the plant uses for sampling. They'd hooked the device around the sampling port. If we had attempted to cut the device off the pipe, it would have triggered it. Martha said the cylinder Evie cut out was full of cholera bacteria. It was designed to slowly inject small amounts into the water supply over a period of hours. Martha has all the specific microbial information." 

"The bacteria is a genetically modified form of cholera. From what our microbiologists are saying, this form divides lightning fast and less of it is required to cause disease," Martha said. "If they'd succeeded, it would have been devastating for the city. Tens of thousands could have died. It would have inoculated the bacteria into our ecosystem, creating a new, permanent health hazard.” 

"The young man you have in your cells was brought along as a distraction, Torchwood theorised, Captain," the Colonel said. "He has no relevant information. Since his intention was to commit a crime in another time and he has committed no crimes here, our specialists are working on possibly integrating him into the population. We're using the protocols that Torchwood provided for us in the seventies. He's currently in UNIT hospital under quarantine." 

“Where are we on preventative measures, Fish?” Jack asked. 

"I've modified the rift predictor program to red flag any of the spikes that match the original signature. We won’t mistake it for an ordinary rift spike again,” Fish said. “I’ve also flagged the signature. It’ll alert all of us, any time, day or night.” 

Colonel Ashline couldn’t ignore the segue. “I must say, Captain Harkness, that UNIT is gravely concerned. It is one thing to deal with planetary terrorism but now we must face threats from the future?” 

“There are always threats, Colonel,” Jack said, flatly. “This threat is contained now.” 

“ _This_ threat is contained. A threat that came through the rift - Torchwood’s jurisdiction.” 

Miranda knew the man was only doing his job but she couldn’t help but feel annoyed and angry. Every member of the Torchwood team probably felt attacked. They were all shifting in their seats or gripping the arms of their chairs, holding back angry retorts. Miranda was thankful Gwen wasn’t here. 

“The rift is active. We can’t close it,” Jack said, matter-of-factly. “Things fall through. This time it was a terrorist cell.” 

“And what assurances do we have that this is the last terrorist cell that will arrive?” the Colonel asked, hotly. 

“None,” Jack said, truthfully. “And there’s nothing anyone - not UNIT or Torchwood - can ever do to stop that.”

“That isn’t a satisfactory answer, Captain Harkness,” he replied. 

“No, but it’s the grown-up one,” Jack shot back. 

It was now the Colonel’s turn to bristle. 

“The human race is out of its childhood, Colonel. We’re not teetering around with stone axes and bronze pikes. The Industrial Revolution’s come and gone. We’ve developed the nuclear bomb. We’re well into adolescence. It’s painful. It’s turbulent.” Jack stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sometimes you wreck your Dad’s car. Sometimes you get drunk and wake up next to the wrong person. You do a lot of stupid things. But you grow out of it… We are doing everything we can to minimize threats that fall through the rift. That is good enough for Her Majesty and that should be good enough for UNIT. Do I need to walk you downstairs to show you how many people have thrown themselves between danger and this planet?” 

It was almost as if Torchwood had passed some sort of test. The Colonel’s entire demeanour changed. He gave Jack an apologetic smile and shook his head. “No, of course not, Captain Harkness. You and Torchwood are working tirelessly. I will make the appropriate recommendations.” 

Relief spread through the room. Colonel Ashline may know a piece of the puzzle but the rest of the Torchwood team and Martha understood what had truly been at stake here. They’d neutralized the terrorist threat. Now, they needed to neutralize the larger threat to humanity’s future. This was the first step. 

"Martha, Colonel, we’re grateful for UNIT's assistance. I’m sure there will be lots of information we can share in the coming months,” Jack said, flashing a rare diplomatic smile. He turned to the rest of the team. "Fish? We have a three day back log we need to sift through. Time to catch up people." 

"Captain? Would you be opposed my having a private word with Doctor Ryan?" the Colonel asked, politely. 

“You don't need my permission for that, Colonel," Jack said as the rest of the team filed out of the room. 

Once they were alone, the Colonel got up and took the chair to Miranda's right. "Our prisoner is quite cooperative, Doctor Ryan. All we need to do is threaten him with you. Your interrogation methods leave much to be desired. I’m afraid the only word I have is brutal.”  

"Torchwood is outside the government, Colonel," Miranda said, simply. 

"I didn't think you, a physician, would be capable of such… efficiency," the Colonel said just as simply. 

Miranda bristled a bit. She disliked that Colonel Ashline had glimpsed a darker part of her, especially since she had almost entwined her life with his daughter’s. She also owed explanations to no one. “With all due respect, sir, you don't know me."

"No, I don’t. Your method was effective. I'm here to present you with an offer," the Colonel said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Colonel Mace was impressed with your ability to extract information so quickly. He would like for you to join our communications team." 

"I am Torchwood and Captain Harkness will not appreciate UNIT's attempt to headhunt within our ranks." She twisted in her chair. “I wasn’t aware that UNIT condoned such things.” 

“We don’t. Colonel Mace’s suggestion to extend you the offer was not well received. I offered you the position merely as a formality, Doctor Ryan. I told him you would refuse… and Captain Harkness needn’t know," the Colonel said with a smile. He paused. "You look well, Miranda."

"As do you, Marcus," she said with a smile. 

"Nora asked about you last Sunday. She wanted to know if I’d spoken with you lately.” 

Miranda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It had been years since the Colonel's daughter and Miranda had gone their separate ways. She felt a pang lance through her chest at the mention of Nora’s name. “I hope she's well."

"She is. She successfully defended her dissertation, a dissertation I didn't understand in the slightest. After her doctorate was conferred, she received quite a few generous offers from some firms and universities across the UK. I wonder who she has to thank for that," he said with a smile. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Marcus," Miranda said flashing the Colonel an innocent smile. Their breakup had been so similar to others in Miranda’s life. Nora simply couldn’t handle what Miranda was. As always, Miranda had accepted that and quietly stepped out of Nora’s life. She continued to watch over her of course, gently easing her life in any way she could. 

"She's seeing someone. Lily something or other I can't remember," the Colonel said with a wave of his hand. The gesture was dismissive. 

Miranda's smile turned a little sly. She had been the first of Nora’s partners to be invited into the Ashline home for Sunday dinner. She suspected this new woman in Nora’s life had never received such an invitation. "You don't like her?"

"This woman doesn't have your fortitude. I am an old fashioned man,” the Colonel said, with an air of disappointment. He waved around the Hub. “You and I know what sort of world we live in. I worry for my daughter's safety with no man to protect her. I had no such worry when she was with you. I've seen the prisoner with my own eyes. You are quite lethal." 

Miranda made an uncomfortable shift in her seat. “I'm the product of a different time.” She let out a small smile. "I thought you found me brutal." 

"I find you incongruous," he said with a shake of his head.

"There is a fine line between incongruous and balanced, my friend," she said with a smile. 

The Colonel laughed. "I need to return to London. Our scientific department will be contacting you.” 

“The Brigadier’s daughter has already been in touch,” Miranda said, getting to her feet and extending her hand. 

“Kate dislikes standing in her father’s shadow. She prefers to be judged on her own merits,” he replied with a smile. He shook her hand firmly. 

“Of which she has many,” she said, returning the smile. “It was good to see you again, Marcus.” 

“And you,” he said. His eyes took on a suggestive quality. “Nora is coming to supper on Sunday-”

Miranda took back her hand and shook her head. “She’s moved on. It’s for the best.” 

“But have you?” he asked, looking at her closely. 

“Your daughter is a difficult act to follow,” she said, sadly. 

“But not impossible, it seems,” he said with a mysterious smile. Before Miranda could object or say anything, he turned and left the room. 


	23. Chapter 23

Three days later, Hart was still unconscious in the pulmonary intensive care ward. He was finally breathing on his own, but there was an oxygen tube underneath his nose. Miranda was sitting in her usual chair, her head resting on Hart's bed as she drew small circles across the back of his hand with her fingertips. At first she had been furious with Jack for suspending her but it afforded her more time to be at Hart's bedside and it had given her time to think. Jack had been right, she’d needed to get her head on straight. She’d made things personal with that prisoner. Her fear for Hart's safety and her desire to swiftly resolve the situation had caused her to become enraged. She had let the leash on her darkness slip and that, in and of itself, made her feelings clear. 

The others had been making rounds in and out. Even Rhys had dropped some pastries at the nurses' station and had sat next to the Captain, thanking the man who couldn't hear him for his wife's life. Each one of them had laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they had come and gone. Henry and Fish had stopped in briefly this morning on their way to the train station to pick up Tom, Alice and Steven. Every one of them could see what Miranda hadn’t. Even the Colonel who hadn’t even seen the two of them together had realised something. She’d somehow managed to fall in love with John Hart. 

These hours at Hart’s bedside had given her a great deal of time to think. The man was infuriating. He stood in her path, went nose to nose with her. It wasn’t just the strength of character that had drawn her in. It was also the flaws. Looking at him was often like looking at a mirror that reflected everything she hated about herself. At first, that mirror had made her uncomfortable but now she was finding camaraderie and companionship in it. She was surprised at how deep her feelings ran. 

But now that she realised those feelings what was she supposed to do? He did seem to feel something for her though she had no idea what. Whether it was love or lust didn’t much matter to her. She’d stayed halfway around the world in Italy so she could glimpse a young woman’s face and feel her fingers on a cup that passed between them. He already had her heart but if all he wanted from her was her body, she would give it to him too. She would hope for more, but with any happiness, she took what she could get. Even these moments beside his sickbed were carefully filed away in her memory. It was entirely possibly they would be all she had. 

As time had stretched on, the hope that Hart would awaken diminished. Jack had told Miranda that Hart had no advanced directive as such things didn't exist in their time. In the fifty first century, euthanasia was commonplace and part of the law but medical technology was vastly different and advanced. Fifty first century technology would be able to tell the doctors immediately if Hart would ever awaken, and what sort of brain function he would have. Fifty first century doctors would put a peaceful end to Hart’s life, if they found that he would never wake, or if he would have no meaningful quality of life after he woke. But this wasn’t the fifty first century. There was no such medical technology in this time, even if the vast hallways of Torchwood’s archive. The only way to determine whether or not Hart would wake or what kind of quality of life he would have afterwards was to wait and see. 

The fact that Hart wasn’t entirely human could work for or against them. Miranda was helpless. Not only had she no way of knowing the status of his brain health, she had no way of knowing if the medications or procedures of this century meant for pure human beings would help or hinder his recovery. She had seen it before with resident aliens Torchwood had integrated into the population. Well intentioned and ignorant medical professionals could easily kill a patient unknowingly as they attempted to save. It was one of the reasons Miranda had rarely left Hart’s bedside. After each medication was administered, she waited and watched so that any change wasn’t misinterpreted. The problem was that, most of the time, Miranda had no idea how to interpret changes either.  

She continued to idly tracing her fingertips along the back of his hand, tears rolling onto the bedsheet as she sifted through her memories of him. She remembered the first time she'd seen him in the morgue and his attack on her. She let out a soft half sob, half laugh as she remembered the gobsmacked look on his face as she had opened a can of soup for lunch. Hart’s distaste of process food was a constant source of amusement for the team. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Scrubbing at her face, she turned around. 

"Ifan?!" _By the Gods!_ She'd been so distracted, so distraught, she hadn't felt his presence. It was a deadly error. 

"No change?" he asked, handing her a thermos of coffee. 

"Not yet…" She didn't take the thermos from him. 

"Stop it, Mandy," he chastised gently. 

She looked up at him. "Stop what?"

"You know exactly what I mean," he gave her a look, laying his coat over the end of the bed. "You're upset. It was just me." 

"It could have been anyone-" 

"But it wasn’t…” Admittedly, Ianto hadn’t been in the Game long but he never understood Miranda’s immediate response to the presence of another immortal. He understood always being at the ready but saw no reason to have his hand fly to the hilt of his own sword the minute he felt pressure between his eyes when he was out in public. “I’m sure one of us wouldn't come at you swinging in the middle of a crowded hospital ward. And you can stop pretending as well." 

"I don't know what-"

"Jack and I did that for ages, dancing around each other, pretending no one else knew," he said, waving between her and Hart. "It was pointless. You're always calling Jack 'woefully obtuse' but you can be just as bad."

She flushed with embarrassment. “I don't know what you're talking about, Ifan."

Ianto bowed his head and cleared his throat. It was a nervous gesture. He dragged a chair over from the nurse’s station and then pulled the curtain closed around them. He dropped his mobile onto the bed, the noise killing app was running. Miranda looked up, a little confused. He wasn’t looking at her, in fact, he wouldn’t meet her gaze at all. He looked embarrassed and ashamed and that wasn’t an expression Ianto wore often. 

“You asked me what happened to me, how I’d gotten better with the sword and how I’d picked up so many of Mac’s habits…” he began. He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs. His hands were clasped and that was what his eyes were focused on. He was nervously fiddling with his wedding ring, twisting it and rubbing at his fingers. “I saw to a rift spike on my own in the middle of the night after Jack and I’d had a row about some such rude thing he’d said to Martha about me. It was a book. Jack called it a Reforge. It pulled me into an alternate reality, a small pocket universe inside of ours.” He paused, taking a breath. “It showed me a different path and on that path… you were in love.” 

Miranda remembered a late night. She’d been inexplicably drawn down into the morgue. Ianto had laid a bouquet of flowers by Tosh’s drawer and had said, _I was selfish, Mandy. I stole love away from you… away from her…_ It didn’t take Miranda long to piece together the clues. 

“Toshiko.” 

He quirked the corner of his mouth. “You called her your rising sun.” 

“I don’t-”

“You wouldn’t. Only I remember anything,” he said, regretfully. “When… when I came back… it took me a while. I’d learned some hard truths. I’d said some hurtful things… I’d done some terrible things… but…” He sighed deeply. This was still so difficult for him to talk about. He’d only spoke of it to Jack and even that had taken him time. He still kept the existence of Fish’s son to himself. The weight and guilt of that so crushing, it was suffocating him. David was real but Tosh was dead so keeping silent about Tosh and Miranda was easier. He never intended to Miranda anything, but over the past few days, she’d hardly left Hart’s bedside and Ianto had recognised the look in her eyes. “You were radiant, Mandy. Every day you glowed. Your heart was light and you were so fucking happy. I watched you both every day for years and I saw the way you looked at her.” He jerked his head towards Hart’s unconscious form. “It’s the same way you look at him.” 

“Ifan…” 

“When you told me about the Horsemen, I didn’t understand. That… experience… the alternate reality… I learned how easily you can die inside. It starts as something small, a small hole in your heart that you fill with hate and anger,” he said, softly. “You tried to warn me. Mac tried to warn me. Methos tried to warn me. I didn’t listen and every day I died a little more inside. I was… I was so angry… all the time… and I didn’t care.” 

He put his hand out and touched her arm. “I get you’re scared. I understand now. I’m afraid all the time. Before I was immortal I was afraid too. I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was afraid for everyone around me and the possibility of forever magnifies that infinitely. I’m going to watch Rhi and Johnny grow old and die and there’s going to be nothing I can do about it. I’ll watch my niece and nephew grow old and die too and their children and their children’s children… It’s… overwhelming, the concept of forever.” 

He looked up at her. “I know what you said to Jack. I know what you’ve said to me. I know what you’ve said to Henry.” He put her hand back over Hart’s. “You’re a good teacher, Mandy. ‘Love when you can, while you can. The greatest thing in the world is to love and be loved.’ Those are your words. Jack engraved it on a thimble for you. Love’s what makes the forever bearable for a time, even if that time is only temporary and blinks into nothing for us.” 

She didn’t answer him so he continued. 

“I know you didn’t ask for advice here, and I get that I’m the student in this equation, but you need to stop being such a fucking martyr,” he insisted. 

Now that made her angry but he interrupted her before she could respond. 

“He fancies you, Mandy,” he blurted. “You’re not just punishing yourself here.” 

Ethan Donovan’s voice echoed in her mind… _Everyone deserves someone who'll make them look forward to tomorrow. When you find that person, don't let whatever this is stop you from loving them or letting them love you because it's not just you who you're punishing. You're punishing them too._ The man had told her he loved her constantly before he’d returned to America. It had embarrassed her because she hadn’t returned those feelings. She looked down at Hart’s unconscious form. 

Trying to lighten the mood, Ianto said with a wry smile, “He’s a right scoundrel and I think you can do better. But we don’t get to choose who we love.” 

She clenched her jaw and said, “This discussion may very well be moot, Ifan.” 

Ianto took that as a dismissal and changed the subject. “It’s not safe to move him to the Hub? Jack wanted me to ask."

She shook her head, surprised when Ianto walked over to Hart and plumped at his pillows. Even though one uncomfortable subject was over, Miranda turned it to another one. “Have you and Gwen forgiven him then?"

“I don’t know. It’s a work in progress, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “You were right. He was a convenient scapegoat. It was about survival." 

She took on a serious tone. “The path to survival isn't always about honor as you’ve already learned. Sometimes we run so we can live to fight another day. The Game is cruel. The choices I have made to ensure my own survival have not always been pure. But I'm still alive."

He returned it and put a hand on her shoulder. "You should go back to the Hub, Mandy. Get some rest." 

"I'm fine, Ifan." 

He wouldn't relent, insisting. "You go on. I'll stay with him." 

"Oh, Eye Candy, I'm touched… really," croaked John's weak voice. 

"John!" they both exclaimed in unison. 

Miranda rushed forward, grabbing Hart's hand and cupping his face. "You're awake." 

"Hiya there, Dollface. Careful. Someone'd think you missed me." He squeezed her hand and smiled softly. He actually managed to lift his free hand to touch her cheek. The movement completely exhausted him. 

So profound was her relief that she forgot herself. Not caring Ianto was less than two feet behind her, she bent down and kissed his forehead. She buried her face in his neck, breathing deep. She let out a soft, dry sob. 

"Hey, now… don't cry, love… I'm okay… Right as rain… Promise…" His voice fading, words slurring with fatigue. His eyes slid shut. 

"John?" 

"Captain?" Ianto moved forward, concern on his face. 

"He's asleep," Miranda said. "Stay with him. I need to speak with the doctors."


	24. Chapter 24

Hart hadn’t been lying. He was a fast healer. Two days after he woke, he was moved to the regular pulmonary ward. Two days after that, Miranda checked him out of hospital against medical advice and moved him back to the Hub and into his room. With only a few days of rest, the former Time Agent was back but on desk duty. He’d been doing well and itching to get back into the field after barely a week. Miranda's suspension had just ended, and her desk duty beginning. She was sitting in Jack's office. Torchwood’s captain and second in command were resuming the discussion that had started in the boardroom two weeks ago. 

"We should be having this discussion with everyone,” Miranda said, flatly. 

The other immortal shook his head. "Not a democracy, remember?"

"That's not what I mean, Jack. The status quo has changed." 

"Changed your mind?" he asked, tilting his head at her. "You were against him staying." 

"My original objection was that the team couldn't trust him. That's changed. He took a bullet for Gwen."

"He took a bullet for Fish too. What makes you think he's trustworthy now?" Jack asked, skeptically.

"That was different, Jack. He had pulled Fish to safety and was injured in the process. This time he stepped in between Gwen and danger purposely without thought to the consequences. He almost died." She furrowed her brow. "What are you getting at? You know you seem to be collecting a lot of opinions and I haven't heard yours yet."

"I want to know what you think, Will," he said, avoiding her question. 

"Jack-"

"What do you think?" he asked with more force.

She took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and said in an official tone, "I think that Captain Hart's loyalty is genuine. I think that like so many others before him, he was a lost man who found a home and a purpose here at Torchwood. He is intelligent, cunning and resourceful. I think he'll make a fine addition to the team and has already proven he will lay down his life for any of us." 

"That's all I wanted to know."

"So we'll be keeping him then?"

"And you say _I_ make him sound like a stray dog?"

"I'm not blind, Jack. You and he may joke and you may roll your eyes but you loved him once and you still care about him." She got a far off look. “We both know how any Torchwood story ends. You should send him far from here.” 

Jack got up and turned around, his hands in his pockets. He was looking out of the window, his eyes floating from team member to team member. "I won't do your dirty work for you, Will."

"I wasn't asking you to." Miranda looked down at her hands. 

"Have you talked to John yet?" 

"I haven't told him his trial period-"

"That's not what I meant, Will." He turned around. He dug at the floor with the toe of his boot. “You spent a lot of time at the hospital.” 

“Hart’s condition was critical,” she said, defensive. “I needed assurances our medicines didn’t do more harm than good.” 

“I’ve been worried about you, since Nora, since London,” he said with a shrug. Jack looked up at her. He jutted his chin forward, a little defensive himself. “You’re smiling again.” 

"When did this conversation stop being about work and start being about my personal life?" she demanded. 

Angry she was snubbing his concern, Jack rolled his eyes in a very Ianto worthy way. 

“Fine. Discussion over." He turned back towards his desk, sat down and started to sift through the paperwork. "Tell John we'll re-evaluate again in six months."

"Yes, Captain," she said tersely and left the room. She kept her head down as she walked through the main Hub, determined to not throw so much as a flick of her eyes in Hart’s direction and completely failed. She hadn’t made it past the kitchen when she’d looked for the distinctive red jacket. Her lips curled into a barely perceptible smile as she saw Hart bent over, tinkering with something at the worktable the former Time Agent shared with Fish. It was a familiar sight now. Since she hadn’t cleared him for field duty, Hart spent most of his time working through the tech backlog. Once she caught sight of Fish eyeing her, she averted her gaze but not before giving her friend a slightly smoldering look. He’d waggled his tongue about what he’d seen in the autopsy bay. Ianto had said his piece at hospital. Now Jack. She was wondering when Gwen and Fish would say something to her and it was none of their fucking business really. 

She knew she was procrastinating. Since Hart had recovered, Miranda had largely avoided him. Hart had attempted to start a few friendly conversations, but Miranda had shot him down each time. She’d done a lot of thinking while he was unconscious, but once he’d woken Miranda had been focused entirely on his recovery, not her own feelings. It had almost been a tunnel vision, but if she was truly being honest with herself, she was using it as an excuse. When Hart had been unconscious, it had been easy for Miranda to idealise the small moment they’d shared. Things were so simple up in her head but now that Hart was awake and recovered? The reality was settling down on her a bit more. 

All of the usual indecisiveness crept into her brain, the same as it had been with Nora Ashline. She told herself all the usual arguments. She told herself that she would’ve lost him some day anyway and it was better that the thing had just never been. She told herself that it didn’t matter what their relationship was because he was still a part of her life. She told herself to just be grateful he was alive. She kept telling herself that she was better off alone. She told herself so very many things. She was so very skilled in the art of lies and half truths, especially when it was to herself. 

Also providing a healthy distraction was UNIT and the Palace. While Colonel Ashline had made his recommendations as Torchwood’s liaison, whether or not those recommendations were followed was a different story. Miranda and Jack had wrongfully assumed that Torchwood was in the clear. Most of the time Ianto and Miranda handled the more diplomatic aspects of Torchwood but in a time like this, their captain needed to be front and center. 

Diplomacy was not the forte of Jack Harkness. It was times like these were Ianto Jones was the most valuable, managing his husband without him realising he was being managed. Usually this was a task Ianto could handle on his own, but the strain and pressure was so great that Miranda had had to help, spreading the load off of Ianto. Their hard work had paid off and Jack had managed to keep his cool and not make an already tense situation worse. Torchwood would come under more scrutiny and there would be a bit more oversight but it was all temporary. 

All of the fallout coupled with all of the regular insanity of Torchwood had caused some of Miranda’s regular duties to fall to the wayside. Praying the rift didn’t drop anything on their heads for the next few hours. She sat down at her desk and opened the drawer. She took out her tablet and opened the inventory program. She rolled her desk chair over to the medicines’ cupboard and began to count. 

A polite throat clear brought her head up. It was Gwen. 

“Gwen? Is something wrong?” she asked, concerned. 

“I was going to ask you that,” Gwen replied, stepping down the stairs into the bay. 

“Gwen…” she warned. Miranda didn’t look up from her chore. She continued to look at the bottles and ampules of medicines, occasionally tapping at the tablet.

Gwen rolled her eyes at her friend. “That scary tone might work with the boys, Miranda, but it doesn’t work with me.” 

She supposed she would have to hear this from all of them eventually. “You want to say something, Gwen, say it.” 

“Ten weeks and eight weeks,” she said, quietly. There was almost a quiver to her voice. 

“What?” Miranda asked, impatient. What Gwen was saying meant nothing to Miranda. She still didn’t look up from the cupboard. 

“I lost the first baby at ten weeks. I lost the second one at eight,” Gwen said. 

That got Miranda’s attention. She turned, startled. She put the tablet onto the top of the cupboard and reached for her medical bag but Gwen wasn’t telling her because Miranda was a doctor. Gwen took a few quick steps forward, grabbing Miranda by the shoulder. Miranda turned to argue, to insist that she scan Gwen thoroughly for any health problems but the look on Gwen’s face stopped her. 

“Rhys has been at me for years,” she said, tears in her large doe eyes. “I thought it was a dead question. How would I raise a child with all this? But he asked the more important question. What are we trying to protect? What are we fighting for? We do it so people can live their lives.” She let go of Miranda’s shoulder and stood back. “I needed to get on with my life, not live it like it was already over. So Rhys and I are trying for a baby. And I found out that real life is harder than any alien bomb or blowfish in a sports car. I know I’m going to end up in a drawer downstairs. Same as Suzie. And Owen. And Tosh. I’m not afraid of dying. Now, I’m afraid of not really living before the end. Falling in love and getting married and buying flats and having kids. We all look at this place like it’s an end in itself but it isn’t. You and Jack and Ianto. We call you immortal but you’re not, not really. There’s an end for you too. Jack and Ianto got married. Henry has Fish. You deserve real life too, Miranda,” She jerked her head back towards the main Hub. “He’s a right bastard but he saved my life. That burns me up, it does. But it’s given me another chance. Third time’s a charm.”


	25. Chapter 25

Completely missing - or rather ignoring - the point of Gwen’s confidences, Miranda had buried herself in the former PC’s fertility struggles. She’d brushed up on her reproductive medicine. She’d downloaded article after article. She’d done hours of research, completely losing herself in Gwen and Rhys’s cause. She’d gone to bed ridiculously late and gotten up just as early. After a quick run for some exercise, she’d returned to her computer for more research. Reproxcxc It was a hand on her shoulder around lunchtime that brought her head up. 

“Evie?” Fish said, an amused smile on his face. 

She quickly closed article. She was certain that Gwen didn’t want to announce her troubles to the rest of the team. Before she could ask the Australian was he wanted, he held up his mobile. “Henry’s waiting for you.” 

“What?” 

“Lunch,” Fish said, his smile widening. “You were supposed to have lunch with him, remember?” 

Miranda uttered an ancient curse. She’d forgotten. She looked at her ignored mobile telephone. There were several missed texts and calls. She got up and scrambled for her coat and sword. Earlier in the week, the Duke asked her to meet him for lunch. Likely he had yet another idea for a marriage proposal that he would, in a week or two, abandon. 

Fish, amused, said, “I’ll let him know you’re on your way.” 

He turned away, chuckling a bit. It wasn’t like Miranda to be so out of joint. She ignored him. Once she was in her coat and properly armed, she drove to the restaurant. Once she walked up to the door, she’d immediately felt Henry’s presence. She slipped her hand into her coat, relaxing when she saw it was, indeed, Henry she sensed. He was already seated, perusing the menu. She sat down opposite him, draping her coat over the back of the chair so as not to reveal the sword concealed within. Henry’s coat was arranged in a similar fashion. Oddly, Henry had suggested a restaurant she and Nora had often eaten at. She didn’t bother with the menu. She always ordered the same thing. It had unnerved Nora to no end. The Thai food had been a favourite of theirs because they had shared their first date here. 

“Your grace,” she said, politely. She then scolded, “You should not have assumed it was me.” 

“Mao-Lin, how are you? I’m glad you’re well,” he replied, with mock frivolity. “And so punctual.” 

She gave his hand a light hearted slap. He laughed. They ordered their food and started to eat. Well, Henry ate. Miranda merely pushed her food around on her plate. Her mood had been light hearted and quite jovial when she’d arrived, it had waned quickly. The restaurant reminding her of past love. 

“Have I done something to disturb your appetite?” Henry asked with a slight smile on his face. 

“Hmm?” she asked. 

He pointed at her plate with his fork. “Do not think I have not noticed you are merely pushing that curry about instead of eating it.” 

She ignored the statement and changed the subject, asking, “Have you decided on a date yet?”  

“You are a meddlesome creature aren’t you?” he retorted. His words may have been annoyed but his tone was friendly. He was just teasing her. His smile widened. She’d correctly assumed the reason for this lunch date. 

Since Fish had left the marriage proposal in Henry’s hands, he’d delayed a great deal. He’d started formulating his proposal the moment he’d moved to Cardiff. Unfortunately, he’d dismissed each idea in turn, deeming none of them suitable for his lover. Many ideas had come and gone and now years had gone with them. Henry was beginning to worry that he was pushing the limits of Fish’s patience. He had been discussing his ideas and suggestions with Miranda for some time. 

“I’ve told you that anything you do will sweep him off his feet,” she said. Her voice was a bit harsh. She’d never understood why he continued to cast aside brilliant idea after brilliant idea. “You could tie the ring to your cock and he’d say yes.” 

Henry wiped his mouth and rolled his eyes. “Must you be vulgar?” 

“I am merely pointing out that you are over thinking this, your grace,” Miranda said. She pushed away her plate of mostly uneaten food. She waved at the ring on Henry’s left hand. “Fish presented that to you years ago.” 

“This is a matter of some importance,” he said, repeating himself for what felt like the thousandth time. “I’ve never proposed marriage before and Joe’s prior experience with matrimony has left much to be desired.” 

Miranda rolled her eyes inwardly. She’d heard about Olivia Porter from Fish and her opinion of the woman couldn’t be lower. _Unstable nutter…_ She didn’t express her real fear to her former student; that Torchwood would steal Fish from him before he had a chance to make his grand proposal and then Henry would be left with only regret. 

“You are being too much the perfectionist,” she warned. “I thought you were going to insert your proposal into the middle of one of your favourite films? So that he would be surprised when you two were watching it together?”  

“I am still considering it. Ianto said he would be willing to assist me with the digital editing,” Henry said. He picked up his water, taking a sip. “It felt too simple.” 

“Nonsense. It’s spontaneous. It’s unexpected. It’s characteristic of your relationship,” she said. When he had first come to her with this idea, she’d thought it was perfect. She’d also thought that of every single idea he’d presented to her. 

“Yes, it was specific to our relationship but I didn’t feel it tailored to Joe’s interests,” Henry explained. “He’s quite fond of the New Year. I was thinking of proposing then.” 

The choice surprised Miranda but she said, brightly, “That is an excellent idea. I’m certain we can arrange time off for him on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.” 

“I would appreciate it,” he said, smiling. 

He tilted his head and reached across with his fork. Miranda thought he was going to take a prawn off of her plate but instead, he tapped the edge of the plate. 

“You still have not answered my question,” he said. His smile had vanished, replaced with seriousness. “Something is troubling you.”

It was a statement, not a question. 

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” she said, dismissively. 

Henry pushed the remainder of his food away. He leaned back in his seat and said, “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my friend.” 

Miranda sighed. She’d expected this from the team. She hadn’t expected it from Henry. Fish had not only gossiped with the rest of the team but also with his lover. She opened her mouth to spout an angry barb about being the subject of their pillow talk and to say precisely what Fish could do with his mouth but Henry interrupted her. “Before you speak ill of Joe, I have seen the evidence with my own eyes. I saw you beside the captain’s sickbed.” 

Miranda was about to give Henry the same rationale as she’d given Jack but he interrupted her again. “Do not give excuses that you are his physician. Your concern was more than that for one’s patient.” 

Henry was an artist and excelled at seeing. Her formal address towards him was just that, a formality. They both knew Miranda’s was the superior position. While they were close friends, it was usually Miranda who inquired about his life not the other way around. Henry was always respectful of her privacy, only accepting what she offered. This was the first time he’d been so blunt with her. 

“I expected this from the team but not from you,” she said. “You call me a meddlesome creature?”

“I don’t wish to quarrel,” he said, holding up a calming hand. He asked, seriously, “Is it the usual reasons?” 

“Yes, it is,” she replied, honestly. 

It was a common immortal failing to anticipate loss and all the grief and pain that went with it. Every immortal developed their own defense mechanisms as the heart began bracing itself against inevitable pain. Ianto and Jack were still young. Ianto was still within the span of a normal life, little had changed for him. Jack, although a bit older, was still young - relatively speaking - but he tended to shield those around him, hoping to place himself between them and death itself. Hoping to soften the blow before it actually came, Henry attempted to build a tolerance to the grief. He mourned those he loved before their time. Miranda often avoided the situations altogether, accepting small morsels of happiness, grateful even for the small scraps and crumbs. 

This wasn’t the entire reason. Grief was always the emotion she had little strength against. Her break-up with Nora Ashline had hit her hard. Jack and Ianto’s time in her bed had, as she expected, made things worse. The two friends, eager to ease Miranda’s loneliness, had been extending invitations to her for years. Shortly after Ianto’s first death, Miranda had begun accepting those invitations. Sometimes there wasn’t even any sex, one or both men would come down to her rooms just to sleep. But she’d had no illusions about the arrangement. Jack and Ianto were the couple and Miranda was the guest. So, when the two had made a formal commitment to each other, Miranda had withdrawn. Even though the only difference in their relationship was the presence of rings on their fingers, she’d chosen to allow the men to settle into their new marital life together without her presence. And now, she was lonelier than ever. 

“Change comes slowly,” he said. He shifted the fingers of his left hand. The ring there was different than the gold and ruby one his late husband Matthew had given him. Matthew’s joyful face appeared in his mind. _That smile… The light of my life_ … Henry felt his heart constrict. He leaned forward, putting his forearm down on the table in front of him. He lowered his voice, “Joe likes to celebrate my birthday.” 

Miranda winced. She joyfully celebrated the random spring date the team had picked for her birthday as well as the birthdays of those around her. Henry was of a different mind, hating any reminder of the passage of time. It was why the choice of a New Year’s proposal had surprised her. Not only did Henry despise his birthday, he equally despised the New Year and all the celebrations that went along with it. 

“My melancholy ruined all of Joe’s thoughtfulness,” Henry said, with deep regret.

She didn’t interrupt him. Henry’s body language told her that he was about to speak for quite some time. 

His voice wasn’t entirely steady as he continued. “I could think only of how Matthew and I had celebrated each birthday, each passing year with such joy… and how that joy is now gone. I miss him, his smile, his laughter, his warmth. But most of all, I miss his love of life because it helped me to love my own.” 

He tapped his left ring finger on the table. “Like Matthew, Joe presented me with a ring. I thought opening my heart again was a betrayal. I thought that loneliness was a tribute to Matthew’s memory and to the vastness of our love but it wasn’t.” 

He nervously began to fiddle with the edge of his carefully folded napkin. “I know that Matthew often wrote you, asking how he could alleviate my despair over his inevitable demise. All too often I felt sorrow instead of joy, mourning him while he was still with me, still vibrant and alive.”

She wondered how Henry had discovered this. She’d always believed Matthew to have written her in secret. _Why is he wasting our short years together with sorrow, when he will have an eternity after I am gone for his grief?_ Matthew had asked. 

“I’d so completely crushed Joe that he promised me he would never celebrate my birthday ever again. That was the deepest betrayal. Over a hundred years and I am making the same mistakes, inflicting the same pain on those I love.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “The years I have with Joe… they will… they will be… even shorter…” 

Henry shut his eyes against the pain. He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He fisted his hands and then forced them to relax as he tried to regain his composure. He looked up at her for the first time since he uttered Matthew’s name. “You taught me that perceptions are everything in the Game; how your opponent perceives you can mean the difference between life and death. I may not celebrate my birthday nor the New Year with Joe’s zeal, but slowly, I have tried to change my perceptions. I do not celebrate Joe becoming one year older and closer to death. I do not celebrate the coming of a new year, the year I may possibly lose him for ever. I celebrate Joe himself. I celebrate his similarities to Matthew - the same love of life, the same endless capacity to give, the same selflessness. And his differences - his calculating intellect, his deep empathy, his competitiveness with himself.” 

Henry reached into his pocket. He placed the small box on the table and tapped it with his finger. He carried the ring he’d bought for Fish with him everywhere he went, in case the moment suddenly struck him. “Slowly, I am learning. I am trying to fill these landmarks of time with memories I may treasure… when he is gone.” 

“Memories that will sting when those days come round again,” she pointed out. 

“But those stinging memories will be all I shall have. Drawings wear away. Paintings and photographs fade.” 

“So do memories,” she argued. 

“They are still there,” he replied. 

She looked out of the window. She went back into her memory as she had countless times in the past, reaching for the image of her first husband’s face. It was like falling off a cliff, reaching out desperately for the edge, any hand or foothold and grasping only air as you fell. 

“I can’t remember Anj’s face,” she said bitterly. 

“You don’t need to,” he replied. “That is not what was important.”


	26. Chapter 26

The rift had been silent so Jack had sent the rest of the team home. The three immortals had had a small supper and then Miranda had returned to her aborted chore. She was deep in thought. She should be using the mindless exercise of counting bottles and examining expiration dates to relax before she turned in, but her mind was rabbiting on and on. Ianto was right. Henry was right. How many times over the years had she told her students or Jack that love was worth the inevitable grief? It made her a hypocrite, but time and again, Miranda ignored her own advice. Her reasoning was a bit flawed. She was simply older than them and by a considerable margin. Sadly, she wondered when the losses through the eons would drive Jack completely mad. She wondered when Henry would call on her to uphold her promise to end his life when the despair and loss became too much. She’d fought to stay alive for so long that survival was all she knew but the idea of living forever - truly forever - terrified her. 

But what if Henry was right? What if she hadn’t reached some sort of endpoint, but was still within the process of coping? After all, what was thousands of years when compared to eternity? For the first time, she was wondering if it was possible to reach a point in immortality where she was accepting of loss. Had Henry figured out something in five hundred years that she hadn’t managed in four millennia? Had the student become the teacher? 

She closed the cupboard and moved onto the small refrigerator to count those medications. She took out a small amber coloured bottle. The moisture immediately condensed on the glass. When she turned it to read the expiration date and it slipped from her fingers, smashing on the floor. Miranda uttered an ancient curse. 

“Everything under control here, Will?” Jack asked from the stairs. 

“A minor accident,” she said, frustrated. “I was clumsy.” 

“Let me help you,” Jack said. He looked around, searching for something to help her sweep up the mess. 

“You don’t even know where the broom or the dustpan are, do you?” Miranda said, amused. 

“Not a clue,” he said, still looking around. 

She shook her head, smiling slightly. She pointed. “That cupboard there.” 

While she sopped up the liquid with some paper towels, Jack took out the small hand broom and dustpan. He got down on his hands and knees and started sweeping the broken glass into a pile. 

“What was it?” he asked. 

“An antibiotic,” she said, tossing the wet towels into the bin. She picked up a bit of broken bottle that had the label still attached. She twisted the piece of glass, reading. “Nearly expired… Trash anyway.” 

Once the mess was cleared away, Jack turned to her and said, “I just got off the phone with Colonel Ashline.” 

“The final decisions?” she asked. 

“Monthly UNIT briefings and quarterly palace briefings for the next year…” he said, trailing off. 

Miranda let out the breath she hadn’t know she was holding. While she’d expected their scrutiny to increase, this was far better than she’d expected. While, technically, Torchwood had autonomy, it was only within their sphere. For any government to function, it needed to know what went on within its borders. They currently had annual meetings with Her Majesty and only quarterly briefings with UNIT. While inconvenient, it was better than having to endure the presence of a UNIT official inside the Hub and that was what some politicians had clamored for.

Jack shifted uncomfortably and then added, “… in person.” 

Now that was a significant change. The tea with Her Majesty was always in person, of course, but the quarterly briefings for UNIT were held over the phone. Torchwood only went to London, in person, annually. During the trip, there were meetings with all major government offices and officials. Monthly trips to London? Miranda was not pleased to hear that. Jack often delegated such things to either her or Ianto. 

“I’ll work something out with Ifan,” she said, leaning back against her desk. 

Not surprisingly, Jack didn’t argue. He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. He jutted out his chin a bit but said nothing. Miranda wondered what he was about to say given the defensive posture. 

“Is there something more, Jack?” she asked, impatient. 

“I’d like for you to clear John for the field,” he said, flatly. “It’s been long enough.” 

It was Miranda’s turn to cross her arms over her chest. She was about to object but Jack said, “Tonight. He’s downstairs.” 

Before she could get in a word, he bounded up the stairs and out of sight. She understood Jack’s urgency. Originally, due to his advanced age - well advanced in terms of Torchwood - Jack had hired Fish as a back-up field operative only. Fish, wanting nothing more than to help his colleagues, had gone through the field certification process. After a rough start, the technician gleefully began going out on field calls. It had become one of the best aspects of his job. But with Henry in his life, his priorities had shifted. He’d told Jack that he would be returning to life as a back-up field operative only and Jack couldn’t fault the man for a decision that would drastically increase his life expectancy. 

With Hart confined to the Hub, Fish was having to go out on more and more field calls. The former Time Agent had been itching to get back into the field but Miranda had wanted to wait until he was fully recovered. _Which he is…_ an annoying part of her brain sneered. Truthfully, she’d procrastinated facing Hart. She’d performed a few examinations of him but always in the autopsy bay and always lightning fast. 

She picked up her medical bag and descended the north stairs towards the staterooms where Hart had taken up residence. The words of her friends ringing in her mind. She kept trying to shake them off as she raised her hand and knocked on Hart’s door. It took a few moments before the door opened. Miranda felt her mouth go dry. Hart was standing there, shirtless. His jeans were on but undone. His hair was a bit messy. He looked tired, as if she’d woken him. 

The moment he saw it was her, he reached down, swiftly buttoning and zipping his jeans. His hands flew up to his head, running his fingers through the thick coarse hair, trying to straighten it. 

The sight was so uncharacteristic, Miranda asked, “Are you all right, Captain?” 

“Yeah, fine, Dollface,” he said, giving her a small smile. He looked behind himself. “Wasn’t expecting company.” 

“Jack asked me evaluate your ability to return to field duty,” she explained, holding up her bag. 

“Oh, right! Great. Uhhh… Just… just one second,” he said, shutting the door. 

Miranda stood there, awkwardly, in the hallway. He opened the door wide, and gestured for her to come inside. The room showed all the signs of having just been hastily cleaned. 

“You needn’t have tidied for me, Captain. This won’t take long.” She dropped her medical bag on the table and waved at the bed. “Sit.” 

While she opened her medical bag and began digging for her things, Hart sat down, obediently, and said, “Trying to be a good host to a lady is all, Dollface.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “And I had hoped that chivalry had truly died by the fifty first century.” 

He laughed at that. “It has. When in New, New Rome.” 

Miranda, using Ianto’s trick of hiding behind a professional demeanour, began to examine him. As expected, she found nothing abnormal. In fact, Hart was completely healthy. She tugged the stethoscope out of her ears and turned towards the low table. She dropped it back into the bag, shutting it. Without turning around, she said, “Your recovery has been excellent.” 

“Told you I was a fast healer, Dollface,” he said. He stood up and put his shirt back on. 

“You’re cleared for field duty,” she said, officially. 

While she was grateful Hart was fully recovered, a small part of her had hoped he wouldn’t be fit for field duty. It might be boring but desk duty was safe. Hart was a man of great cunning and resourcefulness. Though there were three immortals on the team, how long could he survive as a field operative? The realisation of how concerned she was for his safety sent her into an emotional tailspin. 

Strawberry curls appeared in Miranda’s mind and a beautiful voice, rough with illness, along with it. _I don’t regret us… not one second we had together… I should have been braver sooner…_ Miranda leaned on the table, closing her eyes against the memory. Her second wife had thought she’d damned her soul for eternity with their love. And on her deathbed, all she had regretted was not professing that love sooner. The words of her friends began to ring through her mind again but they really weren’t their words, they were hers repeated back at her. 

Suddenly there was warmth at her back. When she turned, Hart was barely a hand’s width away from her. There was a soft look on his face. His scent was strong in her nose. The whole room smelled like him but standing so close it was wafting towards her like smoke. 

He bravely asked, “Do I have permission?” 

She didn’t answer him as he moved closer. He wasn’t touching her but she leaned against the table to keep some distance between them. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, he’d caught her off guard. She put her hand up flat against his chest. She stared into his lust blown eyes. The blue rings sparkled. There was so much depth there; a complexity that swept her away. She pushed firmly. 

“John…” 

He’d lied back when she’d nearly broken his arm in the autopsy bay a month ago. Permission was always verbal. He leaned back slightly and gave her a serious look. A little bit of the lust drained from the room and he said, seriously, “Tell me no and I won't." 

She wanted him. Goddess below, how she wanted him. This man? She'd never encountered anything like him in four thousand years. He was like unadulterated passion, fire and heat. And she wanted him to burn her alive. All her arguments died in her head. There was nothing but the burning skin beneath her palm and the intensity in his eyes. She curled her fingers, fisting her hand in his shirt. She pulled just enough for him to notice. He started to lean towards her, his mouth curling in an ever widening smile. When his lips were bare millimeters from hers, he swerved his head, bypassing her lips, settling his cheek against hers. His skin felt feverishly hot. 

His breath was hot on her ear as he whispered, "I'm going to make you come harder than you ever have." 

With his face buried in the crook of her neck, he shoved her skirt up to her waist. The next sound in the room was ripping cloth as Hart grabbed her knickers and tore them. He dropped them to the floor and then kicked them under the table. When she reached for his jeans, he stopped her. He grabbed her hands and put them on his shoulders. 

"Don't. Fucking. Move," he ordered and her eyes darkened more. 

His raw assertiveness was all the foreplay she needed and Yi Mei-Xiu did something she didn’t do often - she submitted. Staring straight into her eyes, his gaze like a laser, he seized her hips and yanked her forward to the edge of her desk. So sudden and quick was there jerk that she let out a startled yip. He didn't break their gaze as he unbuckled his belt. He undid the button and flies of his jeans, shoving them down around his thighs. Not once did his gaze waiver. 

She was staring straight into his eyes as she felt him breach her. His smile changed and his jaw dropped a bit. His pupils dilated further, completely blown with lust as he penetrated her. She leaned in to kiss him but he brought his hand up, pressing his fingers to her lips. 

"Not yet,” he said with a twisted grin. 

He slid into her, inch by smoldering inch, burying himself to the root. His cock was like a red hot iron rod. She was so wet and, oh, so very tight. He felt the end of his cock bump her cervix. _Perfect fit,_ he thought with satisfaction. It was then that he kissed her. Up until this point, he’d been rough, almost cold but his kiss was anything but. It was deep and soft, his tongue sliding along hers. He felt her shudder in his arms. He angled his hips and gave a jabbing thrust. Miranda let out a scream as the head of his cock slid against her g-spot, hard. 

"Gods, you are so… fucking… tight…" he gasped. He kept thrusting into her, one hand at the small of her back, the other curled around her arse. She was so tight, the walls of her sex gripping him so hard, that each thrust was almost like penetrating her anew. 

Her head fell back and she let out another scream, it was almost painful and Hart stopped as a possibility came to him. He looked at her, concerned and asked, “Am I hurting you?” 

She gave him a defiant look. "I am not a delicate virgin… and I believe you made me a promise earlier you have yet to fulfill." 

"Your wish is my command,” he said. His smile brightened his eyes and Miranda saw the love blossoming there. 

He buried his face in her neck, sucking on the soft skin. He began thrusting into her again. The scent of woodsmoke and jasmine filled his nose. Hart hadn't been boasting about his skills. He knew exactly what she wanted as she responded to his touch. Within a few minutes, she felt her orgasm beginning to curl in her belly. He brought her straight to the edge and he held her there. She had no idea how but every time she nearly fell over the edge, he pulled her back. Soon she was panting, desperate for release. 

"You ready, Dollface?" he asked, lifting his head. He ran his tongue up her neck and then sucked a mark up by her pulse point. He was disappointed as he saw it yellow and fade before his eyes. "Beg." 

Miranda whimpered, canting her hips against him. She was so close… if he'd just…

"That wasn't begging," he said, sweetly. He sucked another mark up on the other side of her neck.

She let out a snarl. Her hands grabbed his hips and she tried to take control. He was having none of that. His reached up, wrapping his hand around her throat. He squeezed slightly, cutting off just enough air to make her dizzy. 

“You have to say it," he whispered into her ear. He slowed his movements and Miranda let out a keen. 

"John… Please…" she begged. 

"I'm going to make you scream," he whispered in her ear. He suddenly changed his angle and increased his pace. His hand drifted from the small of her back to his hip. He grinned as he activated the fifty first century technology concealed beneath the skin and muscle. His cock began to vibrate on its lowest setting. 

Her back arched. She fisted her hands in his t-shirt, tearing the stained cloth. She screamed, "JOHN!" 

He’d kept his promise and Miranda was coming hard and long. She had her face buried in his neck, breathing in lungfuls of his scent as she screamed, muffled against the skin and shirt. He wanted to hear her. He reached up and yanked her head back by her hair. Without his shoulder muffling the scream, it began to echo through the room and probably down the hallway. It was over a full minute later when Hart slowed his thrusting, easing her through the aftershocks. Each one sent a wave of ecstasy through her, causing Miranda to convulse. 

He deactivated the vibrate setting with a few quick presses into his hip. He felt on the precipice of his own climax and he gladly fell over that edge, pulsing his release into her with a wordless shout. Each spurt of his come was like molten lava and she wanted more. He buried his face into her neck, his shoulders trembling. He withdrew but stayed standing there between her splayed thighs. He was leaning his weight on the top of the table, still recovering from the force of his release. He was surprised at how emotional it had been for him, how intense. He hadn't had anyone like her in a long time and certainly no one in this backward century. 

Her forehead was resting against his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel the come running out of her onto the table. It was seeping between her arse and the table top, becoming sticky and cold. She was so boneless, she didn’t care nor did she think her legs would support her. Her arms were around Hart’s neck as she caught her breath. 

When her legs were finally felt strong enough, she slid off the table and stood. Hart reached up and began to undo the buttons on her shirt. She gave him a surprised look but didn’t stop him. 

“Oh, you didn’t think we were finished did you?” he asked with a grin. “We’re just getting started, love.” 

He lifted her up and turned with her in his arms. He laid her back onto the bed as she laughed, blissfully. The sound of that laugh was like music to him as she yanked the t-shirt over his head.


	27. Chapter 27

Right as Miranda and Hart were beginning their third round of sex, Ianto was unbuttoning his waistcoat, walking into Jack's office. He said, without looking up, "I thought tonight we could try that new toy and the shorter ropes." 

Jack didn't even look up from his computer screen and Ianto raised both his eyebrows, annoyed. "Jack?" 

"Hmm? Oh yeah, whatever you want, Yan,” Jack said, still not taking his eyes off the screen. 

"What the bloody hell is so interesting that you're not paying attention to your disrobing husband suggesting sexual experimentation," Ianto snapped, walking around Jack's desk. He couldn't stop the annoyed groan when he saw the image. It was a security camera down in the staterooms, specifically the one in the room Hart was using. _About bloody time,_ he thought but instead of voicing that opinion, he slapped Jack's arm. "Seriously, Jack? You're spying on them shagging?" 

"They're not just having sex, Ianto," Jack said, softly. 

Ianto narrowed his eyes and watched for a few minutes. Miranda was in Hart's lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. Hart had his own arms around Miranda, his hands between her shoulder blades, fingers splayed. His face was buried in her neck. Ianto had had the pleasure of Miranda’s intimate company… but not like this. The two of them were joined as one, moving with each other. Each one giving as much as they received. When they slowed, they were staring into each other’s eyes, sharing small caresses and touches. They weren’t just having sex. They were making love. Miranda didn’t have her head thrown back, as was Ianto’s experience. Her eyes were closed, her forehead resting against Hart’s. Their heads slowly tilted and they tumbled into a profound kiss. He shut the laptop and scolded, "You shouldn't be watching." 

Jack's jaw was tight. "He's trouble." 

"We know that. You’re the one who extended his trial period,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. “Oh, and in case I haven't said it before… nice psychotic ex, Jack." 

"You've said it a few times," Jack said. He opened his laptop again. "You want to start this now, Yan? Again?”  

"I don't want to quarrel, Jack." Ianto shut it before he could open it all the way and kept his hand on the top. He tapped it gently. “We’ve talked about this already. You know how I feel about him being here.” 

Jack felt the gap between them rumble and separate farther. Hart made Ianto uncomfortable, made him feel a little threatened. That first week of Hart’s trial period, things between them had been rocky. He turned, finally ready to admit his suspicions. He turned and leaned back in his chair. 

“It was a long time ago, before I ran into Rose and the Doctor. The Agency had just stolen my memories. Two years, gone like that,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. 

“I know, you told me,” Ianto said. He tapped the laptop. “I don’t see what that has to do with him.” 

“I was on some planet in the thirty somethingth century. I’d just started running cons again. I’d heard about some Crassostrian pearl necklace that was going to end up in the wind there. I don’t remember exactly what century it was or what planet,” he explained. He squinted his eyes a bit, concentrating. “I saw John across the market square. I think he had Will with him.” 

“What?” 

“She had this teal coloured hair but I think it was her. I’m not sure it was her. It was from far away and I was paying attention to John not who he was with,” Jack said. He shook his head. He still wasn’t certain. “I wanted to get John’s attention. I wanted answers. I thought, maybe he knew why the Agency had taken my memories. I didn’t get a chance, someone said something in my ear. Told me that John would come back to me and to not turn him away when he did.” 

“Strange,” Ianto said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t remember any of it until I saw John in the autopsy bay,” Jack confessed. “I turned around but he was gone. I never saw his face.” 

Jack held back the annoying feeling that the voice had been familiar. He was certain he was imagining it. The mind tried to make all sorts of connections and associations to work through confusion and to understand. 

Ianto rubbed at his forehead. “All this time nonsense makes my head hurt.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, Yan,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about any of it. I’m still not.” 

Had he made the wrong choice? He’d said that Miranda’s affair with Ethan Donovan was a recipe for disaster. Well, that was before he’d seen this. This wasn’t a recipe for disaster. Miranda Ryan and John Hart were a recipe for complete catastrophe. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Jack said, scrubbing at his face. “Maybe we shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Whether or not you were meant to keep him here doesn’t matter. I thought love would be good for her. We all did,” Ianto replied. He and Jack shared the same feeling. Had they all been too forceful trying to persuade Miranda and Hart to act on their mutual attraction? “It was just what she needed before.” 

Jack shook his head. “I still can’t get over it. Her and Tosh.” 

“They were good together,” Ianto said, sadly. It was more of a flat statement, not really directed at Jack. “You said she prefers the brainiac sort of woman. Who was more brainiac than Tosh?” 

“I just keep trying to picture it and I can’t.” Jack’s smile was tinged with grief. “Not like that, Yan.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Ianto said, shaking his head. His own smile was also tinged with grief. 

“I’m worried about her,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. "I've seen her play things a little fast and loose before but never seen her like this. Has she said anything to you?"

"Nothing, Jack," Ianto insisted then rolled his eyes at the glare his husband gave him. "I'm not lying, Cariad. I love her and I'm worried about her too. I've asked but she hasn't said anything. If she had and I could tell you I would." 

"You don't think this is my fault, do you, Yan? Since the wedding-"

"Stop, Jack, it's not always about you." Ianto said holding up his hand. Yes, their visits to Miranda’s bed had stopped but that had been largely Miranda’s own decision. He sat down on the edge of Jack’s desk, leaning on his hands. "I think I may know what's going on."

“Well?” Jack said, giving Ianto an expectant look. 

Ianto hesitated. He leaned against the edge of the desk, sitting on it slightly. He put the heels of his hands on the edge. Reluctantly, he said, “I had a bit of a chat with Henry a few months after he moved here. He’s known her a long time. When I described what was going on, he said she goes through these sort of mood swings every couple hundred years.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Every couple hundred years?” 

“You were expecting something monthly?” Ianto countered with a spectacular eye roll. “I’m just repeating what he’s told me. Said it’s almost like a short depression.” Ianto shrugged. He tapped the closed laptop. “Maybe this will help.” 

 _Is that what you're doing, Will? Are you jumping?_ he’d asked her after he learned she was throwing herself between his husband and the dangers of the Game. What was it she’d said? _I'm old and used up. I'm just… I'm so very tired…_ She certainly hadn’t looked depressed in his ex-partner’s arms. Jack had seen that look nearly a hundred years ago but he had only seen flashes of sparkling stars in her eyes, like looking up at an overcast night sky. In Hart’s embrace, the stars in her eyes shined like a clear night in the desert. She was happy and wasn’t that what they all wanted?  

He sat back in his chair, looking up at Ianto. His husband was studying his face, gauging his mood. Hours ago, the Welshman had unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, rolling the sleeves up. His tie was undone, dangling around his neck. The shirt was unbuttoned enough just so that Jack could see a small amount of chest hair peeking under the fabric. The waistcoat was also unbuttoned. He looked deliciously relaxed. The key adjective being delicious. Jack put his ex-partner and his ex-wife firmly out of his mind. It was none of his business now. It didn’t matter whether or not he’d made the right choice. It was done. 

He reached up, grasping the two ends of the tie in his hands. He seductively wrapped them around his fingers, using the tie to pull Ianto in closer. 

“The shorter ropes and the new toy? Jones… Ianto Jones… that sounds like a plan…”


	28. Chapter 28

Miranda was tracing her fingers over the bare skin of Hart's chest, enjoying his warmth. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his wonderful scent. She was so very happy and she gave herself over to it freely for the first time in a long time. Hart was just as content. He felt peaceful and free and he hadn’t felt like that in a long time either. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, his lips tracing her hair. They’d just collapsed after their third round of love making. Now that they’d caught their breath, they were just laying in each other’s arms, talking. The two of them had postured with each other for so long and there’d been so much falseness between them but now they removed those barriers. They spoke to each other open and honestly and it didn’t feel strange or awkward to either of them. 

“You know, Henry calls you one thing. Joe calls you something else. So does Jack. So does Eye Candy,” he said. He ran his fingers through her hair. He let out a small chuckle. “Are any of them the truth?” 

She laughed, throwing her leg over his. “I’ve lived a long time. The people in my life know me by one name or another. They’re all the truth because they’re all who I am.” She teased, “Don’t tell me you and Jack aren’t using aliases.” 

He laughed, his breath warm against her hair. “We’re not.” 

“Not what?” 

“Using aliases.” 

She let out a scoff, not believing him. 

“Jonathan Wixson,” he admitted. 

“What?” she asked, lifting her head to look at him. 

“My name. It’s Jonathan Wixson,” he repeated.

“Your name is actually Jon?” she said, surprised. 

He kissed the top of her head again, smiling at her. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that it’s easier that way.”  

“Can I ask you something?” she asked. 

“You just did, love,” he said, brushing his finger down her cheek. 

“Why did you join the Time Agency? I know Jack did do so he could find Gray but why did you?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at him. 

Hart sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Me joining the Time Agency was all part of Papa’s big plan - money and influence."

She continued to trace lazy circles on his skin and said, “I’m guessing that he had neither.” 

“At first,” he said with a shrug. “He’d amassed a small fortune by the time we were all born but it wasn’t enough for him. I’m the youngest of six. My brothers and sisters? He carefully placed all of us on the right planets with the right jobs. I was the last piece of the puzzle, his crowning achievement - The Time Agency.” 

“Is that where you met Jack?” she asked. 

He took his hand in hers and kissed it. “We were sitting next to each other during the first day’s orientation. Couldn’t have been more different, us. Country mouse, city mouse. We were thick as thieves and we were. Thieves I mean. Papa was why I started running cons with Jack, looking for that one big score that would leave me set and would free me from him. He kept us all under his boot. The only one who managed to get free was Een…”

Miranda didn’t ask what happened. The grief and sadness in Hart’s voice was all she needed to make her own assumptions. She hugged him close, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“He made a choice,” Hart said, knowing she would understand. “When the Agency fell, Papa didn't know what to do with me. Without my job, I was worthless to him and I'd never learned to be on my own completely. He cut me off while he figured out where to move me next… fucking pawns is all any of us are to him. I kept running cons because I didn’t know what else to do… and that brought me here.” 

He was lying a bit. He couldn’t tell her exactly why he’d come here but it was partially true. When he’d decided to take care of Gray, he’d given up. He’d decided to go back to Epsilon Kanai because he’d tried it on his own and it wasn’t working. He’d decided to go back to his lot in life. Life under his father’s boot wasn’t easy but it was simple. It was something he understood. Before he went back, he’d decided to tie up some loose ends. That had all gone out the window when he’d met her. 

He tugged at her arms and Miranda shifted to lay on top of him, her legs straddling his hips. She leaned forward, kissing him tenderly. Her lips were soft and cool. Hart plunged his hands into her hair as he slowed the kiss, turning down its volume. When they came up for air, she was staring down at him, running her fingers along the shell of his ears. He focused on the love and trust in her eyes. He kissed her again with more heat. 

When they broke apart, Hart spoke again. He smiled and said, “Turning over a new leaf…” 

She smiled. “Mei-Xiu was what my mother called me. She found me at the base of a tree on the edge of a forest. The area I grew up in didn't have a name then. We were simple people." She rested her chin on his chest. "My mother died of a fever and a few years later, I caught the eye of a local warlord. My father was more than happy to sell me." She reached up to run her fingers through Hart's hair. 

She caressed his face, peppering his jawline with kisses. She buried her nose into his neck and inhaling his scent, trying to burn it into her memory. Her voice was muffled slightly against his neck. "The warlord who owned me was a decent man who didn’t mistreated me. I was a part of his harem for years before we were attacked. Some of us were killed but most of us were claimed as spoils of war." Miranda pulled back slightly, resting her ear against his chest to listen to the slow strong beat of his heart. “Some of us were killed for sport later. Some of us succumbed to disease. Some of us starved. Most of us went to the warlord’s bed to never return.” 

Hart’s arms tightened around her. 

“He gave me to his men first, watching and laughing. He was cruel; his appetites deviant. Something snapped in my mind that night. I started to laugh at him; mocking him. He beat me to death. I revived in a field. I thought I was in the afterlife or that I was a cursed spirit." 

Miranda could hear and feel him chuckling at her. She sat up and glared at him. He was smothering a grin, desperately trying not to laugh. She dug her finger into his shoulder. “Oi! It was four thousand years ago!" 

"Did I say anything?" he looked down at her with feigned innocence. He was desperately trying not to laugh nor was he the slightest bit phased that she’d just admitted to being four thousand years old. "A cursed spirit? Really?"

"You're mocking me," she said feigning hurt. She gave him a playful smile. “I was an uneducated slave. I didn’t even know how to read most of my life.” 

“And look at you now, Dollface,” he said, resting his hands on her hips. Remembering how much she always objected to his use of the endearment, he quickly said, “Sorry….” 

“I don’t mind it really,” she said. She felt her cheeks warm. 

He slapped her leg playfully. “I thought you were cross about it!” 

“My first husband used to call me something similar,” she admitted. 

“Do I remind you of him?” he asked. 

She thought about it for a minute. It was the first time, in a long time, she hadn’t thought about him without pain. “Not really.”

“Tell me about him,” he said, honestly wanting to hear. 

No one had ever asked her that before. “After I revived, I wandered for a long way. I don’t know how I got to his home. I’d collapsed from thirst or hunger or both. I may have died from exposure a few times, I don’t remember.” 

She ran her fingers up and down Hart’s sides, tracing her fingers along each scar. _So many_ … “I remember drinking so fast from the bowl he gave me that I was sick. I was bedridden for days, too weak to stand. When I finally was strong enough to walk, I offered myself to him and he refused me.” 

“A man of will,” he said with a wry smile. 

Miranda gave Hart a playful slap on the chest. “A man of honour. I started out serving him as cook and housekeeper. I didn’t believe him when he told me I was immortal. I thought he’d nursed me back to health from my wounds.” 

“How’d he convince you?” 

She let out a chuckle. “He killed me.” 

“Bet you believed him then,” he teased. 

She gave him another playful slap. “He taught me the Game and the sword. I don’t remember as much about him as I’d like.” Her eyes unfocused, looking distant but sad. “He was tall, strong and broad. He liked mushrooms. Sometimes, when he chopped wood, I’d catch him chanting this throaty sort of song. He almost never smiled or laughed.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “I’d lived my whole life in a certain station - ruled over and commanded by men. But not with Anj. He taught me that I was his equal. He taught me my worth.” 

“A king’s ransom,” Hart whispered, flipping them over so he was on top of her. She let out a small squeak of surprise as he buried his face between her breasts, breathing in deep. "You smell amazing… like jasmine flowers and woodsmoke…" 

Her eyes slid closed as his hands ran over her skin, his lips trailing across her chest. She said breathlessly, “So do you… sandalwood… leather and cinnamon…”  

She let out a sharp cry and arched her back as he took her nipple into his mouth. 

"Jon…" she gasped. Her hands reached up and cradled the back of his neck. 

He had no idea how but he knew she was calling him Jon and not John but he did. It was something in the way she said it. And he made it his mission to make her gasp and scream his true name as much as possible. His tongue flicked gently at the hardened nipple, teasing the line between pain and pleasure as he suckled harder. He felt the thighs wrapped around his hips quivering. He brought his other hand up her side, sliding it underneath her, between her shoulder blades. Using that hand, he lifted her up and sat back on his heels, bringing her into his lap. His hands drifted down, gripping her hips, he pulled her forward, sliding himself into her for the fourth time that night. The last time had been a bit playful. 

"What's your pleasure this time, love?” he whispered into her ear. 

He reached down near the point of his hip and pressed. His cock began vibrating and Miranda let out a stifled cry. She leaned back, locking her eyes with him. "Surprise me." 

He smiled. He turned the vibrate setting up to level three. "We'll keep it simple tonight." 

Miranda laughed. "Your cock is vibrating. How is that simple?" 

With a wicked grin, Hart hit the mod controls again as he thrust into her slowly. This one activated several texturing features at random. Her eyes went wide and he let out a small chuckle. "The latest upgrades, Dollface." 

She laughed again and then he thrust into her harder. Her eyes rolled back into her head. "You require such enhancements?" she teased. 

"I take that as a challenge," he said with a laugh. He hit the mod controls again, flipping off the texture control and the vibration. "Au natural it is then…” 

There was a smile on her face but a seriousness in her voice. “Just you.” 

Hart felt his world slide away. There was love in her eyes. The pure love he’d seen that first time without pain or grief. He kissed her, feeling a wave of warm spread through him. It started in his chest and as it expanded, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. 

She rested her forehead against his shoulder and moaned. Hart shifted, tilting his head down to suck hard on her neck, leaving a large purple love bite behind. His lips trailed up towards her ear and his voice shook as he gasped, “The Twins, you’re intoxicating…” 

She interlocked her ankles behind him, using them as leverage to move, setting a pace that was neither fast nor slow. Her arms snaked around his neck, she clung to him desperately, almost as if she were afraid he'd vanish. He took over control, letting his rhythm wax and wane. After he’d slowed, he sped back up, staring into her eyes. He watched them slide shut and her forehead rested against his. He slowed again and the two of them fell into a deep kiss. He gave one good hard thrust into her g-spot. 

"Jon!” she shouted, her nails digging into his shoulders. 

Hart laid her back down onto the bed. He steadily increased the force and pace of his thrusting until he arched up and gripped the headboard, using it as leverage. Miranda let out a nearly deafening scream as she came hard. With only a few more hard snaps of his hips, Hart let out his own cry, emptying himself deep within her. After a few more languid thrusts through the aftershocks, he collapsed next to her, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he turned his head and saw Miranda laying on her side, staring at him. 

"What?" he asked. The love was still in her eyes but her eyes were shining. He could have sworn it was tears and a second later he was proven right. A tear slid out of the corner of her eye, onto the pillow under her head. 

"Hey… hey, don't do that…" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards his chest. The sight was too reminiscent of the grief he'd seen when he'd first met her. He never wanted to see that look on her face again. “Please, love, I can’t bear it.” 

She whispered, so softly he nearly didn't hear her, "I love you.”  

He answered immediately, "I love you, too." 

Slowly, he realised he’d never uttered those words to anyone. Not once. Not to a family member or lover. Never. The epiphany sent ice pouring down his neck. Fear gripped his heart like a fist and sent it pounding into his throat. He was close to a panic attack. Miranda seemed to not notice the change in him. Their lusty athleticism had exhausted her. He felt her body relax and her breathing slow and even out. She’d fallen asleep. He swallowed, trying to calm his pounding heart. Terrifying thoughts, one after the other, began steam rolling through his mind. 

He didn’t really love her… did he? He wasn’t capable of loving anyone, not really. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind? He was a lying, murdering scoundrel. He was damaged goods. How could anyone feel anything for him? She might be damaged too but she dazzled brighter than anyone he’d ever met. She looked so relaxed. There was a lightness to her face in sleep. He hadn’t expected that. He watched her breathe, her chest slowly rising and falling in a regular rhythm. He could have stayed there all night, watching her sleep. And that thought caused more ice to run down his neck. 

His brother, Een, had wanted to marry some nobody from some mid-regional colony and their father was having none of it. He had some dingbat he needed to be ‘part of the family’. Though Hart hated most of his siblings, his two eldest he’d been close to, Een and his sister, Judi. Een had confided his plans to him. 

 _Nothing is worth pissing him off,_ he’d warned.

 _She’s worth it_ , Een had insisted. _Love is worth it._

 _But how do you know you love her?_ he’d asked his brother.  

 _I like to watch her sleep. It’s all about the trust. She trusts me to be vulnerable around me,_ Een had replied. To always be mindful and watchful was a lesson they had all learned. No weakness. No vulnerability. 

 _Papa will never allow it,_ he’d said. He hadn’t believe his brother that anyone would be worth what their father would do to them. 

 _What’s he going to do?_ Een had said, dismissively. 

Een had found out. Their father had had the young woman killed. The authorities had pulled her pregnant body from some river in some dirt part of her home colony. Their father had murdered the woman carrying his first grandchild. His brother, grief stricken and heartbroken, had begun using drugs to what even Hart considered wanton excess. He’d died of an overdose. It was an overdose that Hart was positive had been intentional. His brother had gone mad with grief and taken his own life.

Hart had thought his brother had been foolish and stupid. He’d learned well over the span of his life that his own survival, his own safety, was of chief importance to him. He cared little about what he had to do to protect his own skin. What did it matter? His father had made him do plenty of honourless, cheap and base things for his own greedy ends. At least when he was protecting his own hide, Hart was getting something out of it for himself. Doing something to purposefully defy their father? The idea had made Hart shudder. He didn’t think he’d could ever love someone like that and now this radiant creature was laying in his arms. The idea sent him into a panic. His heart was racing. His palms were cold and clammy. He felt like he was suffocating. His throat tightened. His skin crawled like thousands of insects were swarming over him. He had to get out of here. The urge to flee was overwhelming him and he gave in. He shifted as carefully as he could, moving himself away from her. Miranda let out a frustrated keen as she lost his warmth. 

“Jon…” she whispered in her sleep. 

He swallowed, stamping back the terror in him. He flipped open the cigar box on the bookcase shelf and popped down a few vials of something or another. The high started to hit him and he immediately began tossing his things into a large duffel bag, haphazardly, but quietly. He didn’t care if he left anything behind really. He hadn’t looked at her once as he packed but after he’d zipped the bag shut, he looked automatically. She looked so peaceful. He wanted to crawl back into the bed. He wanted to fall asleep beside her tonight and every night for the rest of his life. Those three words began creeping up in his head again. He fisted them, crushing them into dust and pounding them into nothingness inside his mind. 

He’d completely misinterpreted the situation when he’d first seen her. He hadn’t encountered his own death. The reality was so different, he wanted to nearly laugh at it. The gut wrenching grief he’d seen on her face was because he’d left of his own accord. He told himself it was better this way. He’d secured the time line. His job was done. It was time to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of here. He’d come full circle. He strangled the part of him that wanted to stay with her, that wanted a happily ever after. Happily ever after didn’t exist for people like him. 

With trembling hand, he flipped open his wrist strap and tapped out some random coordinates. By the time the vortex sucked him in, he'd nearly convinced himself the tremor in his hands was from the drugs.


	29. Chapter 29

A few months had passed since the disappearance of Captain John Hart. So much had happened to them all but none of them forgot what Hart had done to Miranda. They all kept it, in the back of their minds. They’d all been worried about her after her relationship with Nora had ended but that was nothing compared to what was happening now. After Nora, Miranda had mostly buried herself in her work and become reclusive and a bit reckless. Now? It was like someone had scooped Miranda out of herself, leaving behind some sort of shell. Even the brief holiday she’d taken hadn’t helped much. 

Ianto, of all people, recognised the grief. He knew the rats had found residence in someone else’s stomach. The entire team felt guilty. They’d all had a hand in nudging Miranda into Hart’s arms. They also wanted to cause Hart grievous bodily harm for sodding off in the middle of the fucking night like the cowardly scoundrel he was. Ianto tried his best to be there for her, they all did. She didn’t seem to care. He’d noticed her style in the gym had changed. She’d turned ruthless and cold, almost calculating in her moves. The most disturbing information had come from Ianto’s Watcher, Shawn Graham. On her scheduled trips to London, Miranda had engaged several challengers… of which she was the aggressor. 

The immortal woman could defend herself but she’d never gone looking for fights before. What was more concerning was the fact that Miranda didn’t seem to notice her physical condition was slipping. She was losing weight. She still mechanically ate and exercised but she’d become reckless and wanton in the field. The number of deaths she experienced had practically tripled and that taxed her body. She’d drilled it into Ianto's training early on that the Game is survival of the fittest. You take care of your body or you died. He was starting to fear for her safety and that was something he’d never done before. Ianto wasn’t sure what to do, if anything. 

He was brewing the afternoon pot of coffee. It was only the three immortals in the Hub and he was turning over Miranda’s situation in his head. He couldn’t go to Miranda, she would just shrug him off. He wasn’t concerned enough yet to ring Duncan or Methos, but Ianto felt that he should at least maybe have a chat with Henry about it. He’d ring the Englishman tonight. He looked up. Jack was leaning over the railing by Fish's workstation. As was usual since Hart vanished, he was avoiding Miranda who was in his office, finishing up a call with Downing Street. 

There was a bright flash of light and a snapping noise through the Hub. Ianto poked his head into the main Hub to see the familiar red jacketed figure of John Hart. The first emotion he felt was relief. Miranda would be over the moon that her lover had returned. The second emotion he felt was raw anger. Ianto desperately wanted to throw a good solid punch in Hart’s direction. He started to walk towards him to do just that… but… _Something’s... off…_

Hart looked completely out of place. He was looking around, panicked as if he’d made some grave error. 

"John!" Miranda shouted. She’d just emerged from Jack’s office and was running for Hart, a look of joy on her face. Ianto saw what Miranda couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see.

Hart didn’t recognise her. 

Ianto’s anger immediately evaporated and panic replaced it. He swore under his breath in Welsh and moved to intercept Miranda but Jack got to her first. He’d seen the same exact thing as Ianto and reached out, grabbing her before she could reach Hart.  

"NO! DON'T!" Jack shouted at her. 

The decision was the correct one. Hart took a few steps back, a look of utter confusion on his face. He had absolutely no idea who Miranda was. Jack had to lift Miranda off the ground gain a measure of control over her, she was struggling so hard. 

Jack continued to shout, "STOP! You can't! Look at him! He doesn't know who you are. It's not our version of him!" 

"Let me go! Now, Jack!" she snarled. 

Hart gave Miranda a curious look that was almost lecherous. Ianto nearly wanted to roll his eyes. This wasn’t their version of Hart, at all. The psychotic hedonist hadn’t made an appearance on that level in quite some time. Miranda continued to struggle against Jack and Ianto moved forward to help him. Before he could get close enough, Jack put her back onto the ground. He backhanded her across the mouth. The solid crack got her attention. 

"Look at him!" he cried, shaking her. 

She'd finally stopped struggling and turned with hesitation and dread. The look sent ice down Ianto’s back. Ianto knew that look. He’d seen it before, in the alternate reality when Miranda learned that she would lose Toshiko if Ianto put the world to rights. There was despair and grief and so much pleading. 

Tears welled up as she choked out, “No…" 

Jack drew her close as they spilled down her cheeks. "Ianto? Take her to my office." 

Ianto walked over. He wanted to tell Hart something… anything… but he knew that he couldn’t. He opened his mouth only to close it again. He quietly took Miranda by the arm and started to lead her away.  

"C'mon, Mandy…" he said softly. 

She turned and opened her mouth. Ianto had no idea what she was going to shout or say but he couldn’t allow it. With cat-like reflexes, he covered her mouth with his hand. With his other arm, he dragged her away. The tears continued, running down her cheeks and over Ianto's hand. Ianto expected her to continue to struggle but halfway to Jack's office, she deflated. Ianto dragged her into Jack's office, kicking the door shut with his foot. 

He let go of Miranda slowly, with a great deal of hesitation. She was faster and stronger than him. He’d gotten lucky catching her the first time. He didn’t think he’d get lucky like that twice. She’d stopped crying but sank to the floor, hugging her belly. He could hear Jack’s muffled voice shouting at Hart. 

"You need to leave. Now!" 

The rest of the conversation was too low for him to hear. Miranda clamped her hands over her ears, drowning out the sound of Hart’s voice. Ianto carefully reached down to pick Miranda up but she shoved him and he stumbled back. Fearing she’d head for the door, Ianto moved to stand between it and her but that wasn’t where she was headed. She angrily swept everything off half of Jack’s desk. And then, like a bull in a china shop, she stormed off, knocking over everything in her path. Ianto considered his options. He could follow her or leave her be. He knew which option meant possibly dying and reviving. He turned towards the office door to find Jack. He was standing in the middle of the Hub, hands on his hips, staring at the floor.

"He's gone again, I take it?" Ianto asked softly.

The older man nodded wordlessly.

"What version of Hart was it, do you reckon?"

"One that's about to appear in our morgue a few months ago,” Jack said softly. 

A realisation dawned on Ianto.

“That bastard… he knew… He knew!” he muttered under his breath.

“What are you talking about, Yan?” Jack asked, turning. 

“Something he said… something he said before he swanned off,” Ianto said. He turned, slamming his hand against the metal rail in frustration. “He said, ‘I’m not the one it’s going to end in tears for, Eye Candy.’”

Jack put his hands on his hips. “This is all my fault.” 

“Jack…” Ianto said, reaching out for his husband’s arm.

Jack shoved him off and stormed off himself, leaving Ianto standing alone in the middle of the Hub. 

 

_To be continued…_


End file.
